rilla

My feet the other day, upon a walk, Took me to the edge of the material world, A world were the diluted truth is the ruler, The truth told to be all that is, The truth that if we ever look for more we will be greeted with shame and condemned with insanity. Tho as this is thrust upon us as if it is all that is and ever will be. I look and I see life surrounding me, Life much older than me, ancient life. To listen it seems to require all of my senses through the action surrender and as I gain the power of surrender my senses gradually awaken to the song of the bush.

The symphony of my surroundings, Yet subtle, Urge me to simply take a look beyond the cacophony of my internal mental anguish, To smash these overbearing ideology’s with something as simple as presence. So as I look with my eyes, filtered through my heart, Soaking in the beauty of this ancient wonderland my focus narrows in on Banksia, A plant whose identity was stolen, Not very far from here, By a man Joseph Banks just a short 253 years ago.

Its mouth, with but just a wink instantly dissolved my spoon fed belief structure I have held ever so tight. This sudden act of symbiosis of land and man has created an invisible doorway, yet not physical it allows truth to flow through, a new truth, the truth of love, a truth of knowledge, the pathway to a understanding of self, for this path will mirror the world around us, therefore to truly heal the land we must begin with the self.