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Based around Byron Bay and inland NSW Australia, the birthing of Platypus Dreaming … a prophecy, is the result of fifty years observing a multitude of life dramas unfolding around the world, as well as that place people in Australia like to call home. Lessons available from our ‘birth’ countries have been ignored, and instead we’ve plundered country belonging to the Originals.

What we daily witness is the result of generations of colonisation across the globe, disturbing all native cultures through a misguided belief concerning the nature of intelligence. Arrogant misconceptions have been used to mask a seeming insatiable greed, while showing scant regard for their ‘hosts’ needs or wishes.

The wars constantly played out on various continents and islands across the hemisphere are generally the out-workings of interference dating back millennium. Invariably, invaders believe they know best how life should be lived, better than the local inhabitants whose spirits are fused with land. To our own peril, the wisdom they’ve accumulated over eons, interacting with the natural world that has created them to be who they are, has been contemptuously dismissed.

No one group, race or religion appears responsible. The origins lie back in distant history and the tangle of threads aren’t to be followed, however what we can see IS NOW, and the responses demanded, appear clear to see for those without ambition for power and wealth, to people wishing to live in a world marked by wholesome interaction.

This book hasn’t resulted from study of other peoples books or goal driven endeavour, but was guided by advice from a famous writer, in the 1960’s and 70’s. Following a chance encounter, we travelled through the Kruger Park together, I his tour guide, he my mentor, back in the dark days of Apartheid South Africa.

James Michener’s manner wasn’t insistent like other people whose main interest appeared to involve ticking off species sightings, ‘Done’. No, he was unassuming and quiet, contentedly drinking in the environment without apparent preference for the spectacular over that of an open clearing.

When quizzed as to his path to become a world renowned writer, he considered his answer over three days of my persistent questioning. His answer: ‘I had no idea what to do in life, I was a directionless traveller, island hopping across the Pacific; ‘a bum’. He said that he often recounted stories about his travels and the adventures he’d had, and then around age forty-five, someone asked him why he didn’t write a book. He replied, I couldn’t, I didn’t have any writing experience.

One day, about twelve months later, he woke with a book laid out in his mind. He typed it up and sent it to a publisher who sent it back. It arrived with the comment, ‘It’s much too long. You’re a great story-teller but a shit-house writer. Send it to a publishing house with the editorial facilities to turn it into a readable book. It became a best seller.

His advice: don’t worry about studying for a job because jobs come and go, mostly according to other peoples’ ambitions or the state of the economy. They’re often boring jobs to which you’d not be suited. Go travelling, or do things that interest you. One day you’ll find your passion. If it’s a writer you’re meant to be, and you wish to write something half decent, able to enhance other people’s lives, you’ve got to have experience worth passing on. Somehow, I doubt you’d be content writing dust collecting manuals, which nobody really needs read. It was food for thought.

I grew rich with experience, trying things out, making a fool of myself sometimes, wondering all the while who or what this self was meant to be, or was there even such a thing as self? Slowly I learned there was only learning, and learned that every now and then, I’d be stripped back to the foundations, to start anew again. I realised I could learn skills to do anything I wanted, but what was it I truly wanted, understanding that every new occupation came with new people and a different environment.

Finally the curtain dropped, it wasn’t so much about what I wanted, but about what life wanted of me, and about my ability to read her signs.

We’re surrounded by worldwide cultural, political, ecological, environmental and social chaos.  Collectively we need embark on a new phase, travelling unchartered waters, fuelled by love, the power of our dreams and the wings of prayer; re-birthing to wholeness and Oneness.    

This book has been written with the intention of extending understanding of human function and responsibility within nature, to foster greater insight into our composite selves. Written after Australia’s Originals gently, but determinedly turned the writer’s life upside down and inside out, it became abundantly clear that the colonists had more to learn about being human from them, than the Originals had to learn from ‘modern civilization’.

Accused of being self-deluded by having a misguided belief in the ‘noble savage’, it’s been Graeme’s experience that little of what he learned in school, through technical college or other higher education, prepared him for the confrontation with ‘self’ that became rapidly evident in natural settings, beyond the reaches of technologically assisted environments.

As a mid-thirty years old ‘baby’ on a remote desert community, he re-experienced learning to walk by integrating (in) formations from nature, according her elements their rightful places at a table of inter and co-dependent equals.  

A period of prolonged earth burial at a protest action in the Daintree, taught Graeme that ease of movement through the atmosphere, sustained the illusion of separateness from the composite earth elements that comprise us.

We developed a false sense of ownership over feelings and visual senses, without acknowledging our complete dependency on the materials that provide the foundation (in) formation for them. This raises a question: are they ‘our’ feelings, or a feeling response from life’s foundation, or could it be that feeling has arisen within a contiguous organism of which we are all part?

Our children have become unwitting pawns within a delusional field of manipulation. The adults find reality too hard to bear, unable to apply logic which is inclusive of self within the much larger constituent field. Intelligence is native to all life’s component parts, large and small, complex and simple.

Australia’s Originals traditionally functioned within a broad field of interdependent components, as receivers, integrators and transmitters, facilitating the wellbeing of myriad species, maintaining a custodial role in an ever changing field that constituted the much larger organism.

Western man has developed a coercive, restrictive education program, akin in mental cruelty to the physical binding of limbs, to lame and maintain servitude on behalf of small elite groups of largely invisible, virtual leaders, who control governments and corporations.

They operate within a hierarchal system that seeks to deny people the right to respond according to the living intelligence experienced, but which invokes involuntary culpability, binding the individual to act out the wishes of ‘higher authorities, even when they run counter to ‘right action’. Hierarchies systematically fail to support employees who engage in using the best intelligence available, when it runs counter to their ambitions.

Platypus Dreaming entreats everyone to resume their places as equal, non belligerent co-dependents at the Godhead, ‘Dreamers and Custodians’, there to ensure creation’s continuity.