Finding a ritual practice down Blackfellows’ Lane
Moving to Kalaru on the far south coast of NSW from Canberra in 2013, I had for the first time in my life, a sense of ‘moving onto’ another’s land (country)’. I named my home the ‘Threshold’, reflecting the significance of my move from Canberra. I did not know though, how else to acknowledge my relocation. I had admired the ritual of a smoking ceremony, had participated in a number but did not have the confidence or the contacts to request one for myself.
Later, I learnt that I had moved onto the land of the Djiringanj, part of the great Yuin nation and grew to respect their elders, their young leaders, their local knowledge and traditions.
(Always was, always will be, their land).
I am a ‘morning’ person, enjoying an early start to the day. Kalaru offered a variety of walks along bush tracks and country roads. Over time I tended to repeat a favoured walk, following a couple of bush roads down to a lake which subsequently flowed into the Bega River and to the sea. Ultimately my walk led down to Blackfellows’ Lagoon. Initially feeling uncomfortable with the terminology, I later discovered that the local first nation’s family group requested that the name be retained.
Over time I developed a morning ritual associated with this walk.
Ritual: a religious or solemn ceremony consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order. (Google)
On reaching the edge of the lake, I would first take in the beauty and stillness of the morning Sometimes I was graced with the sight and sound of mullet breaking the water surface as they escaped from predators. At other times I was enveloped within the stillness and dazzled by the shimmering surface.
Reaching upwards, I would stretch, filling my lungs with the bracing morning air, releasing some of the stressors of the night.
Then I would anoint my head with the refreshing, sometimes cold, water of the lagoon. Often it took the form of a gentle splash, in the warmer months, a more enthusiastic washing.
Finally, taking a handful of eucalyptus leave, I would crush them in my palms, inhaling the fresh and healing aroma of nature’s gift and filling my lungs in appreciation.
It was only later that I discovered that this was a family gathering place for the original inhabitants and that a number of significant artifacts remained, including a tree whose bark had been cut and shaped for utility. I felt a special honour. It was here where I had developed a ritual practice which became the highlight of my day.
Graham Jensen
July 2022
Moving to Kalaru on the far south coast of NSW from Canberra in 2013, I had for the first time in my life, a sense of ‘moving onto’ another’s land (country)’. I named my home the ‘Threshold’, reflecting the significance of my move from Canberra. I did not know though, how else to acknowledge my relocation. I had admired the ritual of a smoking ceremony, had participated in a number but did not have the confidence or the contacts to request one for myself.
Later, I learnt that I had moved onto the land of the Djiringanj, part of the great Yuin nation and grew to respect their elders, their young leaders, their local knowledge and traditions.
(Always was, always will be, their land).
I am a ‘morning’ person, enjoying an early start to the day. Kalaru offered a variety of walks along bush tracks and country roads. Over time I tended to repeat a favoured walk, following a couple of bush roads down to a lake which subsequently flowed into the Bega River and to the sea. Ultimately my walk led down to Blackfellows’ Lagoon. Initially feeling uncomfortable with the terminology, I later discovered that the local first nation’s family group requested that the name be retained.
Over time I developed a morning ritual associated with this walk.
Ritual: a religious or solemn ceremony consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order. (Google)
On reaching the edge of the lake, I would first take in the beauty and stillness of the morning Sometimes I was graced with the sight and sound of mullet breaking the water surface as they escaped from predators. At other times I was enveloped within the stillness and dazzled by the shimmering surface.
Reaching upwards, I would stretch, filling my lungs with the bracing morning air, releasing some of the stressors of the night.
Then I would anoint my head with the refreshing, sometimes cold, water of the lagoon. Often it took the form of a gentle splash, in the warmer months, a more enthusiastic washing.
Finally, taking a handful of eucalyptus leave, I would crush them in my palms, inhaling the fresh and healing aroma of nature’s gift and filling my lungs in appreciation.
It was only later that I discovered that this was a family gathering place for the original inhabitants and that a number of significant artifacts remained, including a tree whose bark had been cut and shaped for utility. I felt a special honour. It was here where I had developed a ritual practice which became the highlight of my day.
Graham Jensen
July 2022