Friday, May 23, 2014

Bentley reflections

Getting some perspective, getting some distance, from Bentley Blockade. At the moment, there is a residue, a thick nectar that’s sweet, sickly sweet, and I can’t but be stuck in it. My limbs are spent, my mind is gliding at an eagle’s pace. And I am grounded. Such relief to return to my cocoon, from where it took so long to emerge into an eco-social movement, out in the exposure to sunlight, wind, rain, out in the full glare of a community developing from nothing, the likes of which I’m not sure I’ll see again.

Today is a beautiful day. Having spent it catching up on my terribly neglected life admin, I think of the eagle’s nest, the high hill overlooking Gate C, a high point matched only by the Sacred Fire of Gate A. There a vigil keeper would meditate and watch for the movement of suspicious vehicles along undulating roads, over valleys that stretch to mountain ranges beyond.
I question my motives. I question my limitations. I meet these questions. They force me to look at them. Why was it so hard for me to turn up there for more than a few hours at a time? Perhaps the last few days have answered that question. The atmosphere of that place overwhelmed me. The distance of that place from normal, everyday life overwhelmed me. As quickly as it was building a village, it was deconstructing known paradigms. There was adrenalin pulsing through. There were ancestral earth forces pulsing through. There was enormous change concentrated at that place.

Where you would find TV and mindless entertainment in ordinary life, there you would find organic, communal, acoustic music around a campfire. Where you would find buildings, structures, blocks, there were curvaceous hills and creeks. Where you would find people staring at mobile phones, there were strangers and new friends connecting in real time, in real space. Where you would find regimentation, there was creativity and lateral thought. Where you would find fear, there was fearlessness, which grew and grew and grew.

21 May 2014, Lismore


Down comes the barricade
Down come the structures
Transition is constant
But in deconstruction
it touches us deepest
when we notice change
notice ourselves flailing about
and finding the ground again
what other choice do we have?

19 May 2014, Bentley Blockade

Song of the sacred feminine

The more you see me
The more I will open up to you.
The more you hear me
The more I will speak to you.
The more you hold me
The more I will stay with you.

Bentley Blockade, 18 May 2014

Misty morning Bentley

The gate is open.
Guided to my place,
I find it
past the camp
 rolling over the valley.
"The hills are our ancestors,"
says the woman by the fire.
I hear the carillon call of the didge,
vibrations through the earth I walk upon.
My feet carry me.
I pass the source:
the Elders' Tent, where a child is playing,
a boy is playing
the didge.

"Are you a poet?"
says the woman by the fire,
"Or do you just write whatever?"

Bentley Blockade, 10 April 2014