by Miriam Rose Ungunmeer

Adapted Version

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Dadirri recognises the deep spring that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. It is something like what you call “contemplation”.

 

When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness. There is no need of words. A big part of dadirri is listening.

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Through the years, we have listened to our stories. They are told and sung, over and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and together we hear the sacred stories.

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As we grow older, we ourselves become the storytellers. We pass on to the young ones all they must know. The stories and songs sink quietly into our minds and we hold them deep inside. In the ceremonies we celebrate the awareness of our lives as sacred.

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The contemplative way of dadirri spreads over our whole life. It renews us and brings us peace. It makes us feel whole again…

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In our Aboriginal way, we learnt to listen from our earliest days. We could not live good and useful lives unless we listened. This was the normal way for us to learn – not by asking questions. We learnt by watching and listening, waiting and then acting. Our people have passed on this way of listening for over 40,000 years…

There is no need to reflect too much and to do a lot of thinking. It is just being aware.

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My people are not threatened by silence. They are completely at home in it. They have lived for thousands of years with Nature’s quietness. Our Aboriginal culture has taught us to be still and to wait. We do not try to hurry things up. We let them follow their natural course – like the seasons.

 

We watch the moon in each of its phases. We wait for the

rain to fill our rivers and water the thirsty earth…

When twilight comes, we prepare for the night.

At dawn we rise with the sun.

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We watch the bush foods and wait for them to ripen

before we gather them. We wait for our young people

as they grow, stage by stage, through their initiation

ceremonies.

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When a relation dies, we wait a long time with the sorrow.

We own our grief and allow it to heal slowly.

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                                                                   We wait for the right time for our ceremonies and our meetings. The right                                                                               people must be present. Everything must be done in the proper way. Careful                                                                           preparations must be made. We don’t mind waiting, because we want things to

                                                                   be done with care. Sometimes many hours will be spent on painting the body                                                                         before an important ceremony.

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                                                                   We don’t like to hurry. We know that in time and in the spirit of dadirri (that

                                                                   deep listening and quiet stillness) his way will be clear.  We are River people. We                                                                     cannot hurry the river. We have to move with its current and understand its ways.

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