The well-known Zen quote says: ‘Where there are humans, you will find flies. And Buddhas.’
Apt no matter location, but especially relevant to bushland areas situated adjacent to towns. Such locations within short driving or walking distance, tend to attract that which desires to be hidden.
Couple this with a landscape of steep cliff-lines, ideal for whale watching, and with a tragic history of suicides; Aboriginal Tribal Grounds; a local bagpiper who plays most days; stunning coves, coastline and dense bush-land that attracts walkers; varied bird and animal life; a Lighthouse that is listed online as a gay hookup site, then you bring together a varied cross-section of humanity.
Meet Warden Head.
With such a rich history, sensitively attuned folk intuit a rich soup of energetic vibe.

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Entering the bush-track from the Lighthouse earlier this week, I flashed on three worlds of the Headland:
The upper world is represented by the Sea-Eagle soaring in the sky, visionary, able to see from one world into another; the lower world is represented by the Snake, mostly hidden from sight yet able to feel vibrations from  within the earth over the eons; and the Wild Dog, which roams the middle world, super-sensitive to scents carried on the winds of time.
By riding the energy of Eagle, Snake or Dog, one is able to tune into a seamless holographic past-present-future.
And so walking along the narrow track, canine footprints on the ground became a gateway to perceptual shift.
Trance-like, thoughts dropped away, to be replaced with a primal sensing. Walking through the bushland, agile feet, ears attuned to the quietest noise, head instantaneously moving in accordance with sound, eyes hyper mobile, nose attuned to the breeze. Smell was especially acute, the scent of perfume, (human or plant), wallaby, fox, all transported by the wind.
Reaching the Aboriginal dance ground, the smell of sweat from moving bodies and ashes smouldering in a campfire filled my being. Figures flashed amongst the grass, dry, dead trees animating into live Indigenous beings. Kids running around, other folk sitting around the fire, still others coming up the track from the nearby cove.

All told I wandered through the bushland track for about 40 minutes before emerging onto the soccer field to the west.
A Sea-eagle flew across my view, breaking the spell.
I headed back down the road to town, every few minutes a car would pass on the way out to the Headland.


One thought on “smelling the breeze

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