Saltwater Songlines
From Listening to the Littoral, to Sailing the Sea
I am a Walker of Songlines.
But what does that actually mean?
We walk the earth, as humans, as presence, and as consciousness.
We are not the only consciousnesses, or sentient beings, present.
The earth itself, is Presence, a living Being.
All environments, as ecologies of wholeness, are communities, in relationships. As we walk and sense, in Place, we are part of that wholeness.
Indeed, we co-create the fabric of that wholeness as we listen, and as we participate with ourselves and with that which is around us; soil and sand, rocks, trees, waterscapes. Sky and air and cloud breath. Animals, other lifeforms. Our bodies, sensate, taking in information, emanating our own information. This is what it means to be “embodied”. Sensing that which surrounds us, as part of us. No separation. A continuum of oneness, ebbing and flowing.
My primary ecology of origin is Beach. I grew up at the sea’s edge, listening to sandstone cliffs and waveform, taught to be still and to hear, by my father. Gathering once abundant abalone, treasure-collecting spiral shells, songlining the littoral. Singing, dancing; a lone small child on tidal sand lines.
My secondary ecology is bush. That’s Australian bush. And, growing up in Sydney, that meant subtropical figs, and gums and coastal heathland.
It meant rainforest and sclerophyll and the constant smell of eucalyptus.
It meant sweaty walks of near getting lost, whilst my father listened and listened again, to place. Never lost.
So, “walking Songlines”, is this, essentially; Deep listening. “Dadirri”, it is called by the traditional custodians of Country. As communion, it is creation.
A few weeks ago, the trajectory of my life changed unexpectedly. Completely.
I had thought to walk a particular path, although, as walks go, I knew I would be singing a Songline and making it up — listening — as I went along.
With Another.
In co-creation.
As the ecology of my life changed abruptly, I paused.
Listened.
Yes, I went to ground, and grieved. Stumbled, a lot.
Listened some more. Closely, and openly.
Stood very, very still.
Like many changes, the shifting constellation was not only my own life.
The salt-spray of stars changed around me.
A kaleidoscope of re-organising patterns, which I would not have predicted.
The speed with which this is happening, as I stand still, is a swirl of fast.
A changing scene.
Yes, I have choice as to the speed of my engagement.
And its depth. My depth.
What emerges now, as I watch, is a whole new evolution of my Songline.
From the edge of the sea — the littoral — to the Sea itself.
From the deep listening to the Land, to the listening to the Sea.
The intimate listening to swell and wind and stars and sun and shifting cloud patterns and sea life. The living organism that is the Pacific Ocean.
The learning of a new navigation. Another traditional wayfinding.
A new relationship, with a New Place.
New Songlines.
True, Saltwater Songlines.
I write about Songlines.
You can read more about that at embodiedterrain.com
I hope you’ll come walk with me, as I travel, share, and guide.
I’m currently exploring the traditional navigation wayfinding of the Polynesian Peoples. I hope to journey with them soon. I’ll write about that.
With Deep Beauty always,
Narelle
Woman of the Sea x
