Mutant Message Down Under (12 page)

T
HERE WAS
no differentiation in days of the week while living with the tribe. Nor was there any way of knowing in which month we were living. It was apparent that time was not an issue. One day I had the strangest feeling it was Christmas. Why, I'm not sure. There was nothing even remotely suggestive of a decorated pine tree or a crystal decanter of eggnog nearby. But, it probably was December 25. That made me think about days of the week and an incident that had happened in my office a few years prior.

In the waiting room were two Christian ministers who began discussing religion. The conversation seemed to ignite as they forcefully argued whether the true Sabbath, according to the Bible, was on Saturday or Sunday. Here in the Outback, my memory of the episode seemed comical. It was already the day after Christmas in New Zealand, and at this instant it was Christmas Eve in the United States. I could picture the crooked red line I had seen drawn through the blue ocean in the world atlas. Time, it stated, started and stopped here. At an invisible boundary on a constantly moving sea, every new day of the week had its birth.

I also remembered, as a St. Agnes High School student, sitting one Friday night on a stool at Allen's Drive-in. We had whopper burgers before us and waited for the clock to strike midnight. One bite of meat taken on Friday meant instant mortal sin and eternal damnation. Years later the rule was changed, but nobody ever answered my inquiry into what happened to the poor damned souls already convicted. Now it all seemed so stupid.

I could think of no greater way to honor the purpose of Christmas than the way the Real People tribe live their lives. They celebrate no holidays in our yearly manner. They do honor each tribe member sometime throughout the year, not on a specific birthday, but rather to acknowledge the person's talent, contribution to the community, personal spiritual growth. They do not celebrate getting older; what they do celebrate is becoming better.

One woman told me her name and talent in life meant Time Keeper. They believe we are all multitalented and progress through a series of strengths. She was presently an artist of time and worked with another person who had the ability of detailed memory recall. When I asked her to explain further, she advised me the tribal members were going to seek guidance about that, and I would be told later if I was to have access to that knowledge or not.

There were about three nights when the conversation was not interpreted for me. I knew without asking that the discussion centered on the question of whether or not to include me in some special information. I also knew it was not just me they were considering, but the fact that I represented all Mutants everywhere. It became apparent to me that the Elder was also doing a real sales pitch in my behalf on those three nights. I had the feeling Ooota was the one most opposed. I realized I had been chosen to have a unique experience no outsider had been allowed to have before. Perhaps the knowledge of timekeeping was asking too much.

We continued walking in the desert. The terrain was rock, sand, and some vegetation, hilly, and not as flat as most of what we had been through. There seemed to be a worn depression on the earth where generations of this black race had walked. Without warning, the group stopped and two men walked forward, parted bushes between two trees, and rolled boulders to one side. Behind them was an opening into the side of the hill. Sand had drifted up over the doorway; it was scooped away. Ooota turned to me and said:

I was left alone on the outside as the others went in. I could smell smoke and see it faintly drifting upward from the rock covering the top of the hill. The people came to me one by one. First the youngest: he took my hands, looked into my eyes, and spoke in his native tongue, which I could not comprehend. I could sense his anxiety for what I would do with the knowledge I was about to receive. He was telling me with the inflection of his voice, the rhythm and pauses, that the welfare of his people was about to be exposed for the first time to a Mutant.

Next came the woman I knew as Story Teller. She, too, held my hands and talked to me. In the bright sun her face seemed blacker, her thin eyebrows blue-black, the shade of a peacock feather, and the whites of her eyes chalky clear. She motioned for Ooota to come and speak for us. He did, and while she held both of my hands and looked me squarely in the eyes, he relayed the words to me:

I was shocked. The same information given to me when I first arrived in Australia by the strange young man in the tearoom was being repeated by this aging bush woman.

Next, Story Teller took a handful of sand and put it into my palm. Then she took another handful and opened her fingers and allowed the sand to filter through, indicating I should do the same. This was repeated four times in honor of the four factors: water, fire, air, and earth. A powdery residue clung to my fingers.

One by one they came outside, each speaking and holding my hands. But Ooota no longer spoke for them. After each one spent time with me they reentered the dwelling and someone else came out. Time Keeper herself was one of the last to come, and she was not alone. Memory Keeper was with her. They held hands so we became a threesome. We walked around in a circle, holding hands. Then we touched the ground with our fingers still clasped and later stood upright and stretched our hands into the sky. This was done seven times to honor the seven directions: north, south, east, west, above, below, and within.

Near the end, Medicine Man came. The Elder was last. Ooota accompanied him. They told me that the Aboriginal sacred sites, including those of the Real People tribe, no longer belonged to the natives. The most important joint tribal site was once
Uluru
, now called Ayers Rock, which is a gigantic red mound in the center of the country. It is the world's greatest monolith, standing 1,260 feet above the plain, and is now available to the tourists, who climb it like ants, then return to their excursion bus to spend the remainder of the day floating in the chlorinated, antiseptic swimming pools of the nearby motels. Even though the government says it is owned both by the British loyalists and the natives, it is obviously not sacred any longer and cannot be used for anything even remotely sacred. About 175 years ago, the Mutants began putting up telegraph lines across the vast open spaces. The natives had to find a different site for the gathering of the nations. Since then, all the art, historical carvings, and relics have been removed. Some of the objects were placed in Australian museums, but most of them were exported. The graves have been robbed and altars stripped bare. The tribe believes Mutants were so insensitive that they assumed the Aboriginal worship would end when they took away the sacred sites. It never entered their minds that the people would go elsewhere. It was a devastating blow to all multitribal gatherings and was the beginning of what has developed into a total shattering of the Aboriginal nations. Some fought back and died in a losing battle. Most marched into the white man's world looking for the promised goodness, which included unlimited food, and died in poverty, the legal form of slavery.

The first white inhabitants of Australia were prisoners who arrived in chains by shiploads, to solve the overcrowding in the British penal system. Even the military sent to guard the offenders were men whom the royal courts considered expendable. It is no wonder that when a convict finished serving time and was released penniless and nonrehabilitated, he became a savage steward. The people over whom he could exercise power had to be persons lesser than himself. The natives filled this role.

Ooota revealed that his tribe was guided to come back here about twelve generations ago:

Healing Woman came to me a second time that afternoon. She carried a container of red paint. The colors they use represent, among other things, the four components of the body: bone, nerve, blood, and tissue. Her hand gesture and mental instructions told me to cover my face with red paint. I did. Then all the people came out, and again looking into each person's eyes, I agreed over and over never to reveal the exact location of this sacred site.

With that I was escorted in.

I
NSIDE WAS
a mammoth room of solid rock walls with passageways leading off in several directions. Colorful banners adorned the walls, and statues jutted out from natural rock ledges. What I saw in the corner made me question my sanity. It was a garden! The rocks on the top of the hill are arranged so sunlight can enter, and I clearly heard the sound of water dripping on rock. There was underground water channeled through a rock trough that ran constantly the whole time we were there. It was an uncluttered atmosphere, simple but enduring.

This is the only time I ever saw any of the people claim what I would term personal possessions. In the cave, they kept their ceremonial supplies as well as more elaborate sleeping facilities, with many skins piled to make deep comfortable bedding. I recognized the camel hooves being made into cutting tools. I saw a room that I refer to as the museum. It was where they keep the stockpile of things collected over the years from the scouts who returned from the cities. There were magazine pictures of televisions, computers, automobiles, tanks, rocket launchers, slot machines, famous buildings, different races, and even gourmet food in glowing color. They also had objects that had been brought back to them—sunglasses, a razor, a belt, a zipper, safety pins, pliers, a thermometer, batteries, several pencils and pens, and a few books.

There was one section where they make a clothlike product. They trade wool and other fiber with neighboring tribes and sometimes make coverings out of tree bark. Rope is occasionally made here. I watched as one man, seated, took a few fibers in his hand and seemed to roll them on his thigh. Then, twisting, he continued to add fresh material until he had a long single thread. This was woven with other strands to form a rope of varying thickness. Hair is woven in many projects. I did not realize at the time that these people were covering their body because they knew it would be very difficult, perhaps even impossible, for me to deal with a clothesless lifestyle at this point in my life.

I spent the day in amazement, Ooota explaining as we explored. Torches were necessary in some areas further in, but all the main floor area had a rocky ceiling that allowed adjustment from outside and permitted light from dim to full brilliance. This cave of the Real People tribe is not a place of worship. In fact, their lives moment by moment are acts of worship. This most sacred site is where they can record history, and a place in which to teach Truth, to preserve values. It's a refuge from Mutant thought.

When we returned to the main chamber, Ooota held the statues of wood and stone for my closer inspection. His broad nostrils flaring, he explained that the headdresses revealed the statue's personality. A short headdress represented head thoughts, our memory, decision making, physical awareness of body senses, pleasures and pains, all of which I related to conscious and subconscious mind. The tall headdress represented our creative mind-self, how we could tap into knowledge and invent yet-nonexisting objects, have experiences that may or may not be real, tune into the wisdom learned by all creatures and all humans who ever lived. People seek information but do not seem to realize that wisdom, too, seeks expression. The tall headdress also represented our true perfect self, the eternal part of each of us that we could turn to on those occasions when we needed to know if an action we were considering would be for our highest good. There was also a third headdress, one that fanned the carved face and draped down in back to touch the ground. This represented the connection of all aspects: the physical, the emotional, and the spiritual.

Most of the statues had incredible detail, but one, I was surprised to see, had been finished without pupils in the eyes. It looked like a sightless, blind symbol. “You believe Divine Oneness sees and judges people,” Ooota said. “We think of Divine Oneness as feeling the intent and the emotion of beings—not as interested in what we do as why we do it.”

That night was the most meaningful night of the entire journey. It was then I learned why I was there and what was expected of me.

We had a ceremony. I watched the artists prepare paint of white pipe clay: two shades of red ochre and one of lemon yellow. Tool Maker made paintbrushes out of short sticks about six inches long, frayed out and trimmed with his teeth. The people were painted with intricate designs and pictures of animals. They dressed me in a costume of feathers, some of which were from the soft vanilla-colored emu; I was to imitate the kookaburra bird. My scene in the ceremonial drama was to depict the bird as a messenger, flying to the far corners of the world. The kookaburra is a pretty bird, but it makes a loud noise, often compared to the braying of a donkey. The kookaburra has a strong sense of survival. It is a large bird and seemed appropriate to use.

After the singing and dancing concluded, we formed a small circle. There were nine of us: the Elder, Ooota, Medicine Man, Female Healer, Time Keeper, Memory Keeper, Peace Maker, Kin to Birds, and myself.

The Elder sat directly across from me, his legs tucked under him serving as a cushion; he leaned forward to look at me eye-to-eye. Someone outside the circle handed him a stone goblet filled with liquid. He took a sip. The penetrating stare into the depth of my heart did not waiver as he passed the cup to his right. He spoke:

My mind was a whirl. Now it was making sense. After all this time they had opened up to associate with an outsider because they needed a messenger. But why me?

The cup of liquid was now mine. I took a sip. It had a searing taste like vinegar mixed with straight whiskey. I passed it on to the right.

The elder continued. “Now it is time to put your body and thoughts to rest. Sleep my sister; tomorrow we will speak again.”

The fire had burned down to a glowing, red body of coals. Heat rose, escaping the cave through wide openings in the rocky ceiling. I could not sleep. I motioned to Peace Maker, asking if we could talk. He said, “Yes.” Ooota agreed, so the three of us began a deep, complex conversation.

Peace Maker, his face as worn as the landscape we had traveled, told me that in the beginning of time, in what they call
dreamtime,
all earth was joined together. Divine Oneness created the light, the first sunrise shattering the total eternal darkness. The void was used to place many discs spinning in the heavens. Our planet was one of them. It was flat and featureless. There was not a hint of cover, the surface naked. All was silent. There was not a single flower to bend in air currents, nor was there even a breeze. No bird nor sound to penetrate the nonsound void. Then Divine Oneness expanded knowingness to each disc, giving different things to each one. The consciousness came first. From it appeared water, the atmosphere, land. All temporary forms of life were introduced. My people believe that what you call God, Mutants find difficult to define because they seem addicted to form. For us, Oneness has no size, shape, or weight. Oneness is essence, creativity, purity, love, unlimited, unbounded energy. Many of the tribal stories refer to a Rainbow Snake which represents the weaving line of energy or consciousness that starts as total peace, changes vibration, and becomes sound, color, and form.

I sensed it was not the consciousness of being awake or unconscious that Ooota was trying to explain, but rather some sort of creator consciousness. It is everything. It exists in rocks, plants, animals, and in humankind. Humans were created, but the human body only houses the eternal part of us. Other eternal beings are located in other places throughout the universe. Tribal belief says Divine Oneness first created the female, and that the world was sung into existence. Divine Oneness is not a person. It is God, a supreme, totally positive, loving power. It created the world by expanding energy.

They believe humans were made in the image of God, but not the physical image, because God has no body. Souls were made in the likeness of Divine Oneness, meaning they are capable of pure love and peace, and have the capacity for creativity and caretaking of many things. We were given free will and this planet to use as a learning place for emotions, which are uniquely acute when the soul is in human form.

Dreamtime has three parts, they told me. It was the time before time; dreamtime was also after land appeared but had yet no character. The early people, in experimenting with emotions and actions, found they had free will to feel angry if they so elected. They could look for things to feel angry about or create situations to make anger. Worry, greed, lust, lies, and power are not the feelings and emotions one should spend time developing. To illustrate that, early people disappeared, and in their place appeared a mass of rocks, a waterfall, or a cliff, or whatever. These things still exist in the world and are places of reflection for anyone wise enough to learn from them. It is consciousness that has formed the reality. The third part of dreamtime is
now
. The dreaming is still going on; consciousness is still creating our world.

That is one reason they don't believe ownership of land was ever intended. Land belongs to all things. Agreements and sharing are the real human way. Possession is the extreme of excluding others for self-indulgence. Before the British came, no one in Australia was without land.

The tribe believes the first earthly humans appeared in Australia when all the land on earth was joined. Scientists refer to a single landmass that existed about 180 million years ago as Pangea, and it ultimately split into two. Laurasis contained the northern continents, and Gondwanaland contained Australia, Antarctica, India, Africa, and South America. India and Africa drifted away 65 million years ago, leaving Antarctica below and Australia and South America between.

According to the tribe, early in the history of humankind, people began to explore and went on walkabouts further and further away. They encountered new situations and, instead of relying on basic principles, they adopted aggressive emotions and actions to survive. The further away they went, the more their belief system changed, the more their values were altered, and ultimately even their exterior evolved into a lighter color in the cooler northern climate.

They don't discriminate because of skin color, but they do believe we all started out the same shade and are heading back to one matching color.

They define Mutants as having specific characteristics. First, Mutants can no longer live in the open environment. Most die never knowing what it feels like to have stood naked in the rain. They spend their time in buildings with artificial heat and cooling, and suffer sunstroke out in the normal temperatures.

Secondly, Mutants no longer have the good digestive system of Real People. They have to pulverize, emulsify, process, and preserve food. They eat more unnatural things than natural ones. They have even gone so far as to develop allergies to basic foods and pollens in the air. Sometimes Mutant babies cannot even tolerate their own mother's milk.

Mutants have limited understanding because they measure time in terms of themselves. They fail to recognize any time except today and so destroy without regard for tomorrow.

But the big difference in humans now and the way they were originally is that Mutants have a core of fear. Real People have no fear. Mutants threaten their children. They need law enforcement and prisons. Even government security is based on threatening other countries with weapons. According to the tribe, fear is an emotion of the animal kingdom. There it plays an important part in the role of survival. But if humans know about Divine Oneness and understand that the universe is not a haphazard event but is an unfolding plan, they cannot be fearful. You either have faith or fear, not both. Things, they think, generate fear. The more things you have, the more you have to fear. Eventually you are living your life for things.

The Real People explained how absurd it appeared to them when the missionaries insisted they teach their children to fold hands and give two minutes of grace before meals. They wake up being grateful! They spend the entire day never taking anything for granted. If missionaries have to teach their own children to be grateful, something that comes innately to all humans, the tribe feels they should take a very serious look at their own society. Perhaps it is they who need help.

They also can not understand why the missionaries forbid their payments to the earth. Everyone knows, the less you take from the land, the less you owe in return. The Real People see nothing savage in paying a debt or showing your gratitude to the earth by letting some of your own blood spill onto the sand. Also, they believe in honoring the individual desire of a person who wishes to stop nourishment and sit in the open to end their worldly existence. They do not believe that death by disease or accident is natural. After all, they said, you can't really kill something eternal. You did not create it, and you can't kill it. They believe in free will; freely the soul chooses to come, so how can rules be just that say the soul cannot go home? It is not a personality decision made in this manifested reality. It is an eternal-level decision that is made by an all-knowing self.