More preparation appeared out of nowhere when a lovely friend of my brother’s, Terence, materialised at the humpie. Slightly nonplussed by this unexpected visit, I managed to make him a coffee, slowly becoming more focused as he chatted away. I felt as if he was weaving a web around me, in true shamanic style, as he taught me about non-retaliation. He firmly stated that this meant no exceptions. “I understand totally, but what if one of my children is threatened, I would automatically protect them?” He stared at me very patiently. “No exceptions” he answered. He gave me the following simple prayer to say whenever I felt the desire to retaliate or even when I felt negative energy around me or in my mind, which might make my thinking fuzzy. If I used it like a mantra it would eventually clear negativity.

Creator of Heavens, mother of love
I see your star shining above
Please cleanse my mind with all your love
That I may heed your call of Peace from above

As I was mulling this over, he left. It was only because I washed the cups up and had a scrap of paper with the prayer on it, that I was sure he had been real.

Interestingly the prayer got tested very soon afterwards. My brother and his little family were back from Melbourne.  One night when my brother had been drinking heavily, mixing it with drugs, he suddenly went for little India, full of rage. I immediately said the prayer in my head, then somehow just at the right moment was able to grab India. Jenny took the baby and we ran. My brother followed us for a while and then passed out. It could have been so different if I had tried to tackle my brother head on, retaliating with outrage and fear, putting us all in more danger. Since then I have used it over and over. It always works.

Not long after this, Terence turned up again. He had come with a suggestion that I stay with him and his wife for a few days. Whilst there, I told him that I needed to head off soon, leave Tasmania to find my tribe in Central Australia. He didn’t think I was mad. Instead he helped me sort out my flights and accommodation for Alice Springs – definitely an angel. He even arranged for me to meet a young woman when I got there who was a friend of a friend. Reconciled with my briefly sober brother, I left for Alice Springs. When I landed I have to admit I half expected an Aboriginal to be at the airport waiting for me, but no. So I headed for the hotel and thought “now what?”

Now what indeed! Here I was in Alice and it felt like every Aboriginal I came across made eye contact with me, looking right into the centre of my being. I felt lost and pretty scared. I scuttled back to my hotel room and phoned the friend of a friend Terrence had arranged for me to meet. I did this mainly because I didn’t know what else to do. We met for dinner and, after a preliminary chat, she asked me point blank “What are you doing here?” Rather flustered, I clumsily answered that I had been “told to”, according to my friend, on a felucca in trance on the Nile in Egypt. She looked at me and burst into tears – not the response I was expecting! Through her sobs, she explained that she had always believed in the ancient mysteries but had never had the courage to talk about it. Here I was, her guardian angel. She hadn’t laughed at me so in turn she was definitely mine.

Elisabeth and I talked late into the night. The next day she arranged for me to visit the hospital where she worked. I was to meet some people, at the Alcohol and Drug Unit, who specialised in addiction, working with the Aboriginal communities. Almost as an act of desperation, the grandmothers out in the communities had got together to find ways of helping the children who had turned to petrol sniffing to alleviate their hopelessness and despair around the abandonment by their parents. Many of their fathers had turned to alcohol and their mothers to prostitution as well as alcohol.

Painting was something the children could relate to as selling paintings to tourists was seen as a way of earning money. The traditional symbols were still being used in these paintings and the grandmothers saw this as an opportunity to gain the children’s attention. As the grandmothers started to paint, using anything they could find, sometimes drawing in the sand, the children out of curiosity would sit near them. They began to ask questions about the symbols and the grandmothers would weave in stories around the symbols, the tribal DNA and eventually how petrol sniffing damaged their bodies. Very slowly the children began to listen and understand what was happening, in particular, to their brains.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out of this, two posters were produced depicting very clearly the damage done to the brain and why a healthy brain was vitally important. I was deeply moved and inspired by the work the grandmothers and the unit were doing. Not only were they helping the children, but gradually some of the parents were beginning to heal too. I resonated so much with the issues and saw parallels with the work I was doing back home. Somehow this added another community dynamic embracing storytelling and creativity, especially using symbols that are relevant to individual cultures. I was thrilled when they gave me copies of the posters and I still use them today.

Perhaps this was why I was in Alice and these grandmothers were my ‘tribe’. It certainly felt like it. I was more than happy to accept this, learn as much as I could. I was particularly motivated by keeping things simple and using materials that were at hand.

Perhaps Daisy and I had embellished what I had channelled in Egypt. Hmmm, perhaps we hadn’t. I was to find out this was only the beginning as far as the Universe was concerned.

That evening, I went to an AA meeting and a rather fierce Maori woman took me under her wing. Over a coffee, she asked me the same question “What are you doing here?” This time I answered with more confidence. A very different reaction this time. No tears from my new friend Geraldine. A stern Maori style inquisition instead. She simply sent me off round town the next day and suggested I then meditate. Believe me, I wasn’t about to argue with her as she had been quite cynical in her judgement of me and I knew she was testing me. As I wandered around, I realised I had been hearing a low drumming sound ever since I had arrived in Alice which I seemed to be following. I had also picked up a scrappy piece of paper with a lizard on it and I was making random notes on it. Apparently none the wiser, I eventually returned to the hotel and, a little demoralised, decided to watch Neighbours instead of meditating. Perhaps she had been right with her cynicism. However, my Maori friend’s voice kept nagging me remotely until I gave in and meditated.

I was “told” to phone the number that was printed on the scrappy piece of paper and give them the message that Little Grey Wolf had sent me, using my Native American name. Really? I guessed I had nothing to lose. A very laid back voice answered, I could almost hear her slowly filing her nails. I more or less gave her the message. “They have gone walkabout” the voice said and hung up. Relieved, I pondered on the day ahead but somehow a modicum of wisdom intervened.  I decided to meditate again. It was like being told off at school as I received that I hadn’t given the full message. True. This time, I was firmly instructed to give my Native American name as well as my ordinary name and contact number. The same voice answered, still filing her nails, and I repeated the exact message. Not waiting for a reply, I hung up with a flourish of control. Half an hour later, the phone went and, with no manicuring noises this time. I was clearly informed that I was to go to Uluru on such and such a day, at such and such a time. They emphasised I could only take a very small bag. They then hung up. In fact, it dawned on me who were ‘they’? So much for my moment of control.

When I relayed all this to Elisabeth, angel no.1, she suggested I move to a hostel which had once been a prison. It was cheaper, especially as I had a couple of weeks before I headed off. When I relayed all this to Geraldine, angel no.2, she looked at me like a proud mother, wrestling at the same time with the thought of the impossible task that lay ahead of preparing a child for life. “Well we had better get you ready” she proclaimed. What did that mean? I wondered in a gormless way? What she meant was to drive me into the desert, leave me to find my way home on foot – no sympathy, tough love Maori style. Before she abandoned me to my fate, she pointed at a tree in the distance and some dots beyond. Apparently the tree represented the front door which belonged to the dots. The dots were a tribe. “Just in case you want to drop in. Now, don’t forget to knock at the tree if you decide to visit. Remember to wait for an answer”. And off she went …

Well getting lost when my father died was child’s play compared to this but gritting my teeth helped. What was I going to do? Catching a no.9 bus home wasn’t an option, neither was crying. ‘Neighbours’ certainly wasn’t going to save me either. Interesting how running out of options focused the mind. A combination of being really awake, logic and intuition did work, plus a tinge of fear. No knocking on doors was necessary this time thank goodness. That would come later. Geraldine was a hard task master and I was given daily challenges which became tougher and tougher.

I would collapse in my “cell”, happy to be in some form of cocoon, and as a treat would have a ‘Neighbours’ fix. I also bought a beautiful little basket and some red material for a special crystal I had brought with me. This was in case I needed to present it to a special elder. Eventually, I also thought I would be clever and set out for Uluru early. My two angels kept their own counsel but saw me off at the bus station. They had an air of confidence in me that I certainly wasn’t feeling. Once the long bus journey started, there definitely was a frisson of excitement.

Having arrived, I found a payphone to call the children. I was beginning to feel quite detached from my normal life. My brother had certainly questioned why I was gallivanting off to Alice in the first place and now here I was in Uluru. My brother’s voice in my head, I explained to the boys I was going to disappear for a while and not to worry. A fairly stupid thing to say to two relatively young children but, amazing beings that they were, they just said they had faith in me and all would be well. They even told me about dreams they had had about my trip and they would be with me in spirit.

Suddenly I was all alone. I checked into the first motel I came across, left my tiny bag and went for a walk round the base of Uluru itself. I knew not to climb the rock, unlike the many tourists called ants by the locals, as it is a sacred mountain. Geraldine had schooled me well in honouring the local traditions. I finally returned to my room and went to bed with a sudden realisation that I wasn’t sure where to go the next day. Sleep overrode the anxiety. I woke up early, reflecting on my vivid dream about Uluru and caves. An understanding came to me of “women’s business, men’s business and business”. How to be clear about how to respect our differences and how to work together.  As I was mulling this over, to my surprise I saw I had slept with a mouse snuggled up to me. With a gentle squeak goodbye, it slipped gracefully under the door. Watching its departure, I noticed there was a note just where it had disappeared. I thought it must be my bill, but to my astonishment it was simply directions of where to go later that day. How had they found me? Who were “they”? Well, they were certainly cleverer than me! Was this something to do with doors and knocking?