my home my habitat

i’m a descendant of dispossessed irish and cockney low-life, gypsies and english jews, powerless people, many of them brought to australia in chains, others working their passage to the new colonies, fleeing famine or insupportable tyranny in their own stolen countries.


i was born in 1951, a baby-boomer born protesting: war, human rights abuses, ecological destruction and unethical politics – and the list goes on.

a misfit from the start, i had inherited a ‘family madness’ or ‘fairy shamanism’ (quite common among the english) and flummoxing badly after quitting the family home, i dropped out of a prestigious university where i had been studying ancient and modern languages and ended up an out-patient at a mental hospital, having the first of a succession of ‘nervous breakdowns’, which i did not know until much later were the result of major paradigm shifts required to configure my mind and perceptions for the ‘shamanism’ about to unfold.

i could have accepted the diagnosis of madness and been stultified by treatment as an in-patient, but for a year spent interstate doing primal therapy, an emotional release therapy that incidentally cleared the way for my first telepathic and clairvoyant perceptions.

i was 29 when, fresh from the mountains of the dorrigo plateau i felt the call. i was on the brink of buying land at a place called dundurrabin, when suddenly i was swept up in a strong wave of magic, in which i ‘saw’ the mallee of my birthplace and knew it was conscious and womanly and knew it was calling me home.

so i came back to adelaide, sold my little house in norwood, and bought an 80 acre mallee scrub block which was being sold off for bikers and stock car thrashers to trash, and with all possible reverence for the land, four of us pitched tents (though two left, the girl pregnant, soon after) and offered the best respect we had to the true custodians of this land, the aborigine ghosts and spirits whom we were actually beginning to see. we asked for their pardon and permission to live on the land. one acre for us, 79 for them. we couldn’t hear their replies back then, but what follows suggests that they liked us.

it’s not just us two, or shamans, or psychics that can see them – the land gets into you and makes you see. ordinary locals, yes, even bikers, self-suffers and wood-cutters etc, report easily seeing ghosts in a sustained way, seeing into their world where they live and work as we do in ours. we were seeing just these ghosts at first, most but not all aborigines – people who had died and remained in the land at a different vibrational level. it’s easy to get on to each others’ wave-length. their reality is as solid as ours.

and then as they responded we were seeing and were sometimes ‘transfigured’ by shining, beautiful angelic aborigine people, and also the much bigger spirit people with their dark, rich, beautiful, gentle radiance, like crows. as a tree person, i was right into the trees and found their tree spirits and fairies easily.

later i was shown the tiny tuckonies, (i got the name from a whitefella book, so it’s my guess whether i’m using it right or not – i’d love to be put right if i’m wrong.) they are highly intelligent, as well as very dignified spirit guides.

as my psychic ability increased, the tree spirits and some of the young women ghosts showed me flowers and leaves and berries to eat to increase the resonance between my reality and theirs so that we could see each other better.

they also made me aware of my western grey kangaroo dreaming (arinnya, they told me), and helped me to receive her communications to me. nelly stopped eating the bush tucker and so got off that wavelength for a while. i was drawn in deeper and deeper till i was hearing their voices, speaking to me in pidgin, and one night a part-aborigine man who was teaching me his sort of magic appeared in my caravan as solid as flesh and blood. in full moonlight, we stared at each other with great joy – it is indescribable the relationship between sorcerer and apprentice – and he said, to break the spell, ‘you can kiss me!’ and i did, and he was as solid as i was. then he vanished. he was a plain looking man, like a stockman, about fifty years old or so.

for many years, i have lived here, sometimes alone, or nearly so, and kept my little cottage farmlet and my only companions were the wild creatures and farm animals and the voices and visions and spirits and ghosts of the land. i turned ‘a bit blacker’, and found myself talking in their soft way. i have seen the star women coming down from the stars, stepping so easily – and they have known me and my whitefella ways through and through at a glance, given power to my wands of native wood and wonderful insights about the time-space continuua to me. the land is calling, the and the spirit animals are bursting with communications to share with us all, white or black, green, blue, purple with pink spots, striped, spangled or brindled black and yellow, the biome couldn’t care less.  i don’t know what will happen from here on, but i believe it’s going to be good: good magic, good culture, good politics, from the personal to the political.

i support aboriginal land rights to the hilt. i think that planting the queen of england’s flag in the dirt was not a legal acquisition of this land. all crown lands and other unoccupied lands should be immediately returned to the custodianships of tribes who once resided there.

i strongly support the rights of aborigine people to teach their own traditions to their own children in their own languages, as they choose, with english as an option on their terms, not  those of the obscenely rich and deeply corrupt queen of england.

i don’t own the land, i own the title, the certificate of entitlement.  i have purchased certain quite limited legal rights to this neat trapezium of land once marked out with pegs no longer visible. i acknowledge those rights and responsibilities, but relinquish all claim to own the land itself, which no one can own as it is our mother’s body, and i live here as simply as possible, with permission.


and then the scintillating starbeams spun

off aeons-distant suns a-glitter with

celestial nwyfre drawn from shimm’ring shores

of planets far away. wave upon wave,

oh, one continuous wave of flying radiance

crashing, quantum waves forever breaking,

myriad on a starlit gaian shore.

gaia consecrates this starry light

and in her awestruck goblet keeps it pure

within the limpid misted crystal ball,

her dew-bead eye, her lensing atmosphere,

her myriad micro-prisms splay all spectra.

in leaves of trees and fields of living grass

star-beam chemistry so fine and subtle

makes like sight the breaking of these waves

this rich continuous flow of speaking light.

sleek seals on rocky shores weave, yelp and yawn

in ecstacy, drunk with the star-beam flow

the air is filled with networked insect wings

lensing the filtered light to gaia’s mind.

the faerie shaman

seeing fairies depends on three things: the person seeing, the fairies to be seen and the process of seeing. let’s start with the process of seeing

green fairy

slightly self-radiant aerial being

the process of seeing is a gift. each of us is part of a greater organism, gaia, our planet, just as our cells are parts of us, each unique, with its own specialised work to do for the whole organism. just as some organisms on earth have well-developed sensoria for experiencing the visual, audial and tactile sensations that define reality for humans, so some humans have specialised senses highly enough developed to enable the fairy sight. if a person has this gift and is psychologically ready, they will be aware of their readiness: they will be looking for fairies and longing to see them. if that’s you, that’s who i’m writing this for. if you’re looking for fairies, then you can be sure they’re looking for you!

the fairies you’re looking for will depend on the kind of fairy lore you have been imbibing since childhood. before you’ve seen any, you’ll be looking for the more believable ones you’ve heard of, read about or seen pictures of. the current surge of interest in fairy art is a great help. fairies all but manifest through art, making the artist draw thepicture, then inhabiting the picture like a ghost in it. that’s why fairy pictures cast such an enchantment over those of us to whom they speak. if you form the intention of drawing or painting a fairy, or writing about them in poems,children’s stories or books for older readers, you’ll be surrounded by fairies who will strongly influence your work. so even fairy artists who don’t see fairies, and perhaps don’t even believe in them, are very likely to be channelling accurately – and the fairies concerned will be the types most wanting to be seen, most willing to help you to focus on where they are. let love guide you – seek the ones that appeal to you most. however, be alert for kinds you never expected to see, who will be looking for you, and trying to persuade you to love them too. there are many, many different kinds of mostly diminutive peoples whom we call fairies.

finally, you yourself! you are used to seeing pretty well with your normal eyes, hearing, smelling, tasting, etc, and you get a bit blas/e about it sometimes. if you feel a bit dull, you can still see and hear etc reasonably well, so you have no great need for exquisitely receptive senses for everyday experiencing. but when you want to see fairies, you will need far greater sensory clarity and psychic awareness than usual, and you may have to work to achieve that. you need optimal health – and that means a healthy diet with plenty of raw foods, such as salads and fresh fruit (not necessarily vegan, though that can help) healthy respiratory and circulatory systems, which depend on a healthy physical environment and plenty of good aerobic exercise. getting out into the garden or parks or the country is helpful. then your psychological health will affect your ability to see fairies. that means emotional balance, sound ethics and rationality. you don’t have to get ‘trans’ rational – fairies fit rationally into our reality – we just have to learn how.

this is just a basic idea of a good starting point. but there’s much more to it than that – winning their confidence, enduring their harassment, loving them, fearing them – it’s a rich, wild shamanism. let’s develop our own unique approach to it with their goodwill! let it be for the good of all beings!


barracking for the underdog

Whose laws rule?                                                                                    vyvyan ogma wyverne

This is how I understand it – I won’t say I’m well-informed or that all my arguments are watertight, at least not in the terms of the ‘dominant culture’ under whose laws we are all now constrained to live. I’ve been out of touch with the dominant culture for large slabs of my life and I’m vague on the fine details of its rationale.  I’m literate but the books I know best are mostly more than 300 years old and I have, I acknowledge, my own take on them, so to speak, at variance with the officialdoms of the dominant culture. Yet I have my points of view and I think long and deep on subjects like this, especially in relation to some of the dominated ones, specifically, indigenous peoples, travelers and the displaced peoples who have become or are becoming urban poor in their own appropriated lands. It’s a hot, nay a sizzling topic in some, mostly obscure circles, but I don’t intend to be hot-tongued about it. I just want to look at the damage and see what can be said about it.

First you have ‘tribes’ which are really extended families, and matriarchal and patriarchal tolerances and intolerances determine right from wrong for a hundred and fifty or so people, loosely or tightly constrained to treaties with other tribes with whom they share resources, territories, migration routes  or even just borders, or with whom they inter-marry or trade with. These usually maintain relatively low population levels, with resultant low crime rates and low rates of mutual aggression, reflected in rudimentary weaponry adapted from tools which anyway are minimalistic. If a well-aimed stone kills the duck, why invent a gun?

Then you get the high tech superpowers colonising, which they do politely enough at first, taking only what they need of the abundant resources. But if the pickings are good, they soon become domineering and later totalitarian, claiming sovereignty over all the resources of the land, fencing and policing even the lands they have no use for or could easily afford to share. The tribes, whether consenting or not, become subject to the laws of the high-tech colonists, and soon fill their jails.  England did this in Australia and New Zealand and elsewhere, and in Ireland and the Americas previously. It had been done to her indigenous peoples in the recent past by the Anglo-Saxons.

The major mechanism is the fencing of land, and the erection of signs saying ‘trespassers prosecuted’. This forces people to beg.  In old France you got a piece of bread and butter for attending school. You attended or you starved. The same principle applies with modern day aborigines. With education in English compulsory, within a few generations, all appropriated children are shaky about their own languages and embarrassed about the apparent inferiority of their own culture, viewed through the largely unconfigurable lenses of the dominant culture.

And are the lenses of the dominant culture superior?

Well, the pervading morality is hard-wired into them, and have we not a well-recorded history of its evolution, with its impeccable contributions from many very ancient Greeks, and innumerable venerable classical and ecclesiastical moral philosophers since, themselves members of cultures soon to be subsumed in the snowballing of a succession of dominant ones or else part of the process of that subsumation? Not really, but the dominant culture has the power to indoctrinate all children towards a firm conviction that the basing of our philosophy on the tradition of these (too?) few essays of variable calibre and questionable worth somehow improves the evolution of ‘our’ morality, while in my opinion it could be argued that it paralyses progress in the field.  Certainly it makes very culture-specific norms and whether written or unwritten, laws create and protect norms and impose them by means of more laws and keep them in place by means of still more laws until only those who, while conforming to these norms, are still functional can prosper. Those who can’t are considered dysfunctional, no matter how high-strangeness the norms might be to them. Dysfunctional people lose all human rights, because they get taken over by ‘welfare’ workers as soon as they register as such, and their dysfunctionality is defined as something ‘wrong’ with them or even with their whole culyure.

The Nungahs, the Rom, the Celts the Africans, the native Americans all experience differently.  Their realities overlap only partially with the legal norm. Officially, they are said to hallucinate, and those who can’t be made ‘normal’ are declared insane. Ooooh, there’s anger in the land…

I know no one is claiming an even reasonable track record for Australia’s dominant culture’s morality in human rights or in protecting the rights of small nations.  The ‘Sorry’ of a few years back was deeply real, and maybe the fate of our world might turn upon it and save us from bombing each other to bits. At the very least, it might offer us a more realistic basis for law-making.



talk the walk

it occurs to me that i could step out of the forest into the glimmering glade and talk my walk with you all for part of the way to wherever we’re going for as long as we’re on the same track. our bare feet would step with care on a path well-scrutinised in advance for thorns and fewmets, side-stepping tiny young plants and bright green beetles, gentle on the bright green moss.our eyes would see the trees and birds and we’d tell them their scientific names. we would see the hidden life among the leaves, the tiny forests within the leaf mold under our feet, and the fairies and sylphs of the wayside.

green fairy

slightly self-radiant aerial being

small mammals and reptiles would flee at our approach.  kangaroos would greet us affectionately and pose for photos. perhaps we would meet other wayfarers, and wander at will with them all. i would carry a good well-educated wand and some amulets, two flutes and a lute, and a full purse of gold, and there’d be silver and some coppers in my pocket. we’d sometimes find pavement beneath our feet, or cool mosaics, or wooden flooring, and there’d be bothies and inns and haunted mead benches where we could hobnob with the worldlings and exchange wisdom and words of goodwill. we’d view vistas, learn lore, mend mad magic, meet our maker the miraculous Mind, our mother the mud our father the sky, and create stuff… dream-worlds, game-worlds, fairy-lands and elf-realms, and visit the ones that already exist. well, i’ve stalled long enough. time i began.