WHAT LITTLE GIRLS WISH DADDIES KNEW

December 14, 2013 by taralee73

I’m spending the morning waiting for my car in the repair shop. Four men in flannel (I missed the flannel memo) and I sit around smelling tires and inhaling exhaust fumes while an enchanting little fairy is in constant motion around her daddy. She climbs on him, giggles, turns around, and then she’s back to twirling on the tile.

She’s bouncing and spinning around in her pink frilly skirt. Her black cable knit tights are sagging around her tiny knees, and her puffy coat makes her arms stand out further than is natural. To top off the ensemble is a shiny crystal tiara. It’s been tacked down to her head with what appears to be about 60 haphazard bobby pins.

She’s probably four years old. So little, so vulnerable. She doesn’t seem concerned about it as she sings about teapots and ladybugs in her black Mary Janes. I feel myself tear up as I watch her. I tear up as I watch him watch her. She could not possibly know at four what impact this man, his character, or his words will have on her for years to come. And, maybe he doesn’t know either.

So, to all the daddies with little girls who aren’t old enough yet to ask for what they need from you, here is what we wish you knew:

1. How you love me is how I will love myself.

2. Ask how I am feeling and listen to my answer, I need to know you value me before I can understand my true value.

3. I learn how I should be treated by how you treat my mom, whether you are married to her or not.

4. If you are angry with me, I feel it even if I don’t understand it, so talk to me.

5. Every time you show grace to me or someone else, I learn to trust God a little more.

6. I need to experience your nurturing physical strength, so I learn to trust the physicality of men.

7. Please don’t talk about sex like a teenage boy, or I think it’s something dirty.

8. When your tone is gentle, I understand what you are saying much better.

9. How you talk about female bodies when you’re ‘just joking’ is what I believe about my own.

10. How you handle my heart, is how I will allow it to be handled by others.

11. If you encourage me to find what brings joy, I will always seek it.

12. If you teach me what safe feels like when I’m with you, I will know better how to guard myself from men who are not.

13. Teach me a love of art, science, and nature, and I will learn that intellect matters more than dress size.

14. Let me say exactly what I want even if it’s wrong or silly, because I need to know having a strong voice is acceptable to you.

15. When I get older, if you seem afraid of my changing body, I will believe something is wrong with it.

16. If you understand contentment for yourself, so will I.

17. When I ask you to let go, please remain available; I will always come back and need you if you do.

18. If you demonstrate tenderness, I learn to embrace my own vulnerability rather than fear it.

19. When you let me help fix the car and paint the house, I will believe I can do anything a boy can do.

20. When you protect my femininity, I learn everything about me is worthy of protecting.

21. How you treat our dog when you think I’m not watching tells me more about you than does just about anything else.

22. Don’t let money be everything, or I learn not to respect it or you.

23. Hug, hold, and kiss me in all the ways a daddy does that are right and good and pure. I need it so much to understand healthy touch.

24. Please don’t lie, because I believe what you say.

25. Don’t avoid hard conversations, because it makes me believe I’m not worth fighting for.

It’s pretty simple, really. Little girls just love their daddies. They each think their daddy hung the moon. Once in a while when you look at your little gal twirling in her frilly skirt, remember she’ll be grown one day. What do you want her to know about men, life, herself, love? What you do and say now matters for a lifetime. Daddies, never underestimate the impact of your words or deeds on your daughters, no matter their age.

http://tarahedman.com/girls-daddies-knew/

SEVEN TRAITS OF HIGHLY MAGICAL PEOPLE

23 August 2013, by Carolyn Elliot

1. You know you’re magic.

This is the big one. In their heart of hearts, everyone is magic. But most folks just don’t know it. It’s very sad, and it’s not their fault. They’ve had the awareness beaten out of them one way or another. Our society in general is very anti-magic.
Magic people always have a mission. And part of that mission is to help folks still stuck in the clay (that’s my way catchy of saying “folks still stuck in naive materialism and unaware of their innate magic-ness”) understand that magic is real and within them, too.
So basically, if you know you’re magic, you’re ahead of the game. Which means you don’t really need this article – but look, it’s the internet and we’re just having fun.

2. Synchronicities happen for you – a lot.

And they tend to speed up when you spend a lot of time on meditation, art, ritual, intentional movement or prayer. Sometimes these synchronicities are just cute or silly, but often they’re life-changing and dramatic.
The biggest synchronous thing that can happen to a magic person is to meet another magic person. Or a whole enclave of them. It’s thrilling. It’s overwhelming. It’s love.
When lots of synchronicities are going on, I like to say “the jewel net is moving.” Why?

Because we’re all jewels in an infinitely connected web of silken joy.  

And sometimes the net shifts and folds in on itself and we run smack into a whole bunch of other jewels. And it’s great.

3. You’re sensitive to seasons and lunar cycles.

The more magic you are (and remember, being magic is mainly a matter of… knowing that you’re magic!) the more the energies of light and the two big cosmic lamps in our region (the sun and moon) affect your business.
You might find that you can’t sleep on full moon nights (all that energy, so ramped up!) and that you go through epic mythopoetic cycles of emotional birth and death as spring turns to summer turns to fall turns to winter.

4. You have very vivid dreams.

Magic people have at least partially developed aetheric bodies. This means, at the very least, that one or more of their chakras (Rudolf Steiner liked to call them “lotus flowers”) are open and active.
Maybe you’re a magic person with a giant, pulsing, highly-empathic heart chakra. Or maybe your third eye is open and you have an easy time seeing the visionary fluid dance of all things.
At the highly developed end of the spectrum, magic people have fully-formed aetheric bodies that can freely navigate the astral planes.
But having your aetheric sense perceptions open, even a little bit, means that you can see more vividly in the nighttime dream world than others can. So, you got that goin’ for you. Which is nice.

5.  When you fall in love, it’s psychedelic.

Forget a loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou. When a magic person falls in love (very probably with another magic person), it’s more like a sheet of acid, a gallon of mushroom tea and thou. And I’m not saying that actual drugs are involved.
I’m saying that the intensity of dopamine and oxytocin rushes, in magic brains, tends to produce more than just sexy-cozy-attachment.
They tend to also unleash psychic perception (you can read your lover’s thoughts – like, for reals – not just “I was thinking of you!” “I knew you were thinking of me, baby. ‘Cause I was thinking of you!“), encounters with your lover in the nighttime dream world, ecstatic sex that ruptures the boundaries of your identity, and other fun stuff.
Also, be careful with all that. It can get hairy if your lover happens to be one of those not-really-very-stable-or-sane magic people. Of which there are quite a few.

Magic people fall in love and it’s all like, whoah.

6. You have an abundance of prana.

Or creative energy. Or genius, or whatever you want to call it.
Wilhelm Reich called it “orgone.” Kant called it “Geist.” Emerson called it “Soul.” Mezmer called it “animal magnetism.” It’s sexual energy which transmutes into different feeling-tones when centered in different chakras and channels in the body.
In other words – even though it’s sexual energy, your abundant prana doesn’t necessarily feel “sexy” (although it probably does in spring and summer). It might just feel buzz-y or space-y or urgently creative.
You get seized with the need to write that poem, plan that ritual, record that song, make those spicy ginger fudge brownies. It’s implacable.
Also, no matter what you look like, folks tell you that you’re “hot.” And they mean it. You are. You radiate the light and heat of the cosmos. You’re a star, you magic darling!

7. You love to spread the magic around.

Your chief motive for making art, cooking great food, tending your garden, whatever – isn’t to be rich or famous. Though that could be cool.
If you’re magic, your biggest motive is to spread the magic around, because you just can’t stand not doing it. The magic is so fun, so beautiful, so warm, so true.
This means that it drives you a little crazy when you can totally see the magic in someone, and they can’t see it in themselves.
It drives you maybe even more crazy when you can totally see the magic in the world, and the world at large seems to not tenderly care for and appreciate its own magic.
So, you put effort everyday into doing stuff that increases the sum-total of magic and wonder and joy and love and delight in the world.
You turn up the volume on everything gorgeous so it can’t be ignored.

In conclusion,

You’re magic and I am too, and I love you.



Carolyn Elliott really digs metta meditation and weird poetry. She’s the author of Awaken Your Genius: a 7 step guide to uncovering your creativity, which will appear next fall from North Atlantic Books / Evolver Editions.  She blogs over at Awesome Your Life, and facilitates a Facebook Group (which you’re welcome to join) called The Dreamer’s Tantra, devoted to dreaming ourselves awake.

http://www.rebellesociety.com/2013/04/16/7-traits-of-magical-people/

ABRAHAM HICKS – IF HE LETS THE STREAM CONTROL CONDITIONS

MANDALA: THE SACRED ART OF TIBETAN BUDDHISTS

Bhavika October 7, 2008
 

An art that has been carried on for centuries, symbolising the universe and believed to create a positive environment. I am referring to the Tibetan Buddhist sacred art of Mandala (means circle in Sanskrit), which is made by monks from millions of grains of dyed sand or paint. A bit similar to Rangoli made by Hindus.

Monks spend days to make this intricate masterpiece, with utmost care and precision, as you will see in the pictures below. Mandalas are believed to assist in purification and healing and represent the Buddhist value of compassion, so the process of making one, as you will find out, involves few rituals, even while destroying the design.

The process of making a mandala starts with an opening ceremony, when the monks will pray and chant to sanctify the place, then draw the detailed design from the center outwards on a wooden platform.




Monks start filling the circular design using metal funnels called ‘chak-pur’. The vibrations of the chak-pur being grated with a metal rod causes the sand to flow like liquid.



Apart from sand even powdered flowers, herbs, stones, or grains are used. In ancient times, powdered precious and semiprecious gems were also used.



The design consists of various deities with the principle deity in the centre of it, so mandala also serves like a meditation tool. Traditionally, mandalas are destroyed shortly after its completion, in a ritual ceremony.



The monks ask for blessings of the deities, and as they chant the mandala is slowly wiped off to serve a reminder of impermanence of life, a Buddhist teaching. The sand is then collected and dispersed into the sea to spread its healing power to the world, you know the the power of thoughts on water molecules, it transforms into beautiful designs.

http://fractalenlightenment.com/798/artwork/mandala-the-sacred-art-of-tibetan-buddhists

'LIFTING THE SKIRT' WITH AMANDA SAGE'S ART

Bhavika March 1, 2013

‘Empowering’ was the first word that popped in my head when I went into/entered the visionary world of artist Amanda Sage. Based in Los Angeles, Amanda aims to create portals that open to the infinite possibilities of being and expressing, to help remember and re-discover who we really are, where we originate from and where we are headed.

One of the main reason I love visionary art is because of the experience of losing yourself into multiple dimensions blended to perfection to narrate a cosmic story on a single canvas. Through her art, Amanda seeks to challenge the viewer to question and evolve out of ignorance and dissolve the conditioning by the society.

Fractal Enlightenment got in touch with Amanda to know more about her art, inspiration, her experience with the pioneer of visionary art – Ernst Fuchs – and what lies ahead.

Visionary artist Amanda Sage

“I feel driven to explore and push the boundaries of what I see and understand and at the same time seek balance and beauty through my art. I would say that the path has defined the result and that visionary art choose me.

As a child I remember seeing colored energy fields around people, and I feel that through painting I am remembering and looking even deeper,” she said.

The Shaman

Her adventurous spirit carried her to Bali, then on to Vienna, Austria to study classical painting with Michael Fuchs, resulting in becoming a long time painting assistant to Ernst Fuchs. “At times it was the most difficult thing that I knew. When I was working with him, he was like a slave driver who expected me to be painting or doing something for him all the time. 

At the same time though, there was so much genius wrapped into many of the projects, and I really had to learn to be flexible. The level of unwavering commitment that he has for his art and vision was inspiring to say the least. And most of all how he would always look at his work with fresh eyes and challenge himself and the viewer.”

Ana Suromai – Women have been lifting their skirts for centuries to ward off evil and enhance fertility. This symbolic act is also found in mythologies of various cultures, specifically in those of ancient Egypt, Greece, Persia, Ireland, Africa, Indonesia & Japan

One of her most talked about piece is ‘Ana-Suromai,’ derived from the Greek word meaning ‘to lift the skirt’. According to Amanda, this painting is an outcry a visual denouncement of the corrupt system that has brought our world to a state of chaos, based on greed, war profiteering, and the mindless consumption by the masses. “It symbolizes the awakening of our personal power, shocking one into introspection as this system is in the process of crumbling.” This painting was unveiled at the 2011 Burning Man Festival in the Nevada Desert.

The Oracle

If you look closely you will find that an egg is a recurring symbol in many of her paintings, Amanda explained, “I consciously began using an egg in 2006 after going on a vision quest to find the perfect form that I could put anything in and feel completely safe to explore and unfold within. 

This form appeared to me in a painting titled ‘Dreams,’ where a mystical snake held an egg in its mouth. I see it now as a window or doorway into infinite realms of reality.”

Gateway to the Emerald Kingdom

Often developing these ideas takes a lot of effort and one is always confronted with having to make a choice. She explained, “When I am painting, I often find peace, and/or a battlefield that whisks me into a problem solving world…Even as I go down dark, destructive paths looking for the light, the pressure of those places drives me to see where I want to go even clearer. Sometimes you have to get lost to find yourself.”

Mind

Its always difficult for an artist to be able to pick one painting that reflects their journey on this path, but Amanda gave it a shot.

”The painting that speaks the most of the dream I care so deeply about is ‘Regeneration’. It is deeply personal and reflects a journey that I am on and discovering.”

Regeneration – “It has an overall uplifting vibration about it and is about celebration, healing and love.”

Seeking inspiration from various visionary artists like Frida Kahlo, Leanora Carrington, Remedios Varo, Salvador Dali, Mati Klarwein, Robert Venosa and Alex Grey, Amanda has played a prominent role in the growing visionary art movement through exhibiting, teaching and participating in major festivals.

Spirit visionary art

She is set to open the Vienna Academy of Visionary Art along with her colleagues this fall. “Besides I have a new series of paintings to embark on as I also explore and travel the world as a witness on a grand quest to support the blossoming of planetary consciousness,” she explained.

Orphic Awakening

http://fractalenlightenment.com/14341/artwork/lifting-the-skirt-with-amanda-sages-art

VIPASSANA ~ A PATH TO SELF AWARENESS

 Clyde October 28, 2013

 

Vipassana is the way to see things as they really are; it is one of India’s most ancient techniques of meditation that was rediscovered by Gautama Buddha more than 2500 years. He then taught vipassana as a way to enlightenment and a universal remedy for day-to-day problems.

Vipassana saw a resurgence with S N Goenka, who after learning vipassana started teaching others in 1969. This has lead to a whole lot of vipassana institutions cropping up around the world that offer the 10-day course free of cost.

Vipassana is a technique that will eradicate suffering, it is a method of mental purification which allows one to face life’s tensions and problems in a calm, balanced way. The path of Vipassana is not easy and during the course there are many who do not complete it.

The Origin and Spread of Vipassana::

I went through part of this video which shows how Buddha gained enlightenment through Vipassana, how it changed him and how he started teaching people Vipassana to help them get rid of their earthly problems.

The video has nice images for each step of the journey and although the message of Vipassana to enlightenment may be pushed in a little too often.

Doing Time, Doing Vipassana:
 
Doing Time, Doing Vipassana is a full length documentary that talks about how Vipassana was introduced into the Indian prison system and the positive effect it had not only on the prisoners but even improved the interactions between the jail wardens, prisoners and their families. It also includes the story of how Kiran Bedi, the former Inspector General of Prisons in New Delhi, India, strove to transform the notorious Tihar Prison, the largest complex of prisons in South Asia, and turn it into an oasis of peace.
One very interesting part is when a murderer of three people, whose heart is filled with vengeance and is waiting to get out of prison to kill his enemies, undergoes a transformation through Vipassana and ends up filled with compassion. He even calls up the family of the people who he murdered to ask for their forgiveness.




The Dhamma Brothers:

Here’s a documentary film about a group of prison inmates who participate in a 10-day Vipassana retreat at the Donaldson Correctional Facility in Alabama. The film asks “is it possible for these men, some of whom have committed horrendous crimes, to change?”

The Dhamma Brothers tells a dramatic tale of human potential and transformation as it closely follows and documents the stories of the prison inmates as they enter into this arduous and intensive program.



Vipassana Experience:

Here’s one of my friend’s Amit Ayre’s Vipassana experience, “It started off really well. Excited to learn something new on day 1-2. By Day 4, I was done. Felt like I was wasting my holidays because of boredom. By day 5 morning, mind was made up and I was all set to quit. But then something happened. I spoke to the Guruji, who asked me to give it another day. I did. That was the day we started learning the Vipassana technique of meditation. Day 6 onwards, the actual journey started for me.



It was wonderful after that, I started feeling the vibrations as we progressed. At one point, I felt they were mixing something in my food because of the experience, the vibrations and all that was surreal. Something I could not have imagined possible without psychedelics.

The best part of the day was the discourse where they played a pre-recorded message from S. N. Goenka, it was insane because he had an explanation for whatever was happening with me throughout the day. Everything we did throughout the day and why we did what we did as well as a lot of knowledge about the inner workings of your mind.

On day 10 we started talking and sharing experiences, it was simply wonderful, to add to that, it was also a full moon night. We were done with collecting all the new thoughts and new ideas. I spent that night under the stars, reading up, making notes, questions to ask etc. Another perk was the ability to connect with some incredibly awesome people, it was like Amit 2.0.”

There are hundreds of other Vipassana experiences online and on Youtube. If you are interested in doing a Vipassana course, you can apply for a scheduled course here
 
The Vipassna Course:

People who apply for the course have a strict code of conduct to follow for those ten days. They can’t have any connection with the outside world, all electronic devices are given to the management for this period. They have to maintain silence most of the time, simple vegetarian meals are provided, and neither can one write or read. No physical contact with the same or opposite sex are permitted and perhaps the most important is to declare that you are willing to comply fully with the teachers guidance and instruction during the course.

Apart from that you have to abstain from killing any being, stealing, all sexual activity, telling lies and all intoxicants. If you are a returning student or have done a course earlier then you have three more rules,
abstain from eating after midday, sensual entertainment and bodily decorations and from using high or luxurious beds.

The daily Vipassana course time table is as follows ~

4:00 am

Morning wake-up bell

4:30-6:30 am

Meditate in the hall or in your room

6:30-8:00 am

Breakfast break

8:00-9:00 am

Group meditation in the hall

9:00-11:00 am

Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher’s instructions

11:00-12:00 noon

Lunch break

12noon-1:00 pm

Rest and interviews with the teacher

1:00-2:30 pm

Meditate in the hall or in your room

2:30-3:30 pm

Group meditation in the hall

3:30-5:00 pm

Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher’s instructions

5:00-6:00 pm

Tea break

6:00-7:00 pm

Group meditation in the hall

7:00-8:15 pm

Teacher’s Discourse in the hall

8:15-9:00 pm

Group meditation in the hall

9:00-9:30 pm

Question time in the hall

9:30 pm

Retire to your own room–Lights out

 

Resources:

Dhamma Vipassana Image

http://fractalenlightenment.com/15406/spirituality/vipassana-a-path-to-self-awareness

THUGINE, THE RAINBOW AND THE WANDERING BOYS

Far to the west in the deep blue sea there dwells a great serpent named Thugine. His scales are of many shimmering colors. When a rainbow appears in the sky, it is Thugine curving his back and the sun reflecting the colors of his scales.

Many years ago, a tribe of blacks camped close to a sea beach. One morning they all went out to fish and hunt, with the exception of two boys, whom the old men left in charge of the camp. Wander not into the forest lest the wild dogs eat you, or to the beach, where Thugine the serpent is -waiting for children who wander alone." This was the parting advice of the old men to the boys.

When the men had departed, the boys played about the camp for a while, but they soon grew tired of their games. The day was very hot, and in the distance the boys could hear the dull, deep booming of the surf. Both the boys were longing to go to the beach, but were afraid to speak their desire. At last the elder boy spoke, and said: "The fires of the sun are burning bright to-day, but on the breeze I can feel the cool breath of the sea. Let us go to the beach, and we shall return before the shadow of night has fallen. The men will not know." The other boy hesitated and was afraid, but at last he yielded, and together they wandered hand in hand through the bush.

After walking for some time they came to an opening in the trees, and, before their expectant gaze, a wonderful scene unfolded. A golden beach stretched far away until it was lost to view in the dim distance. The cool waves rolled lazily in great green billows from the outer reef, and dashed in a haze of sparkling white foam on the hot sands of the palm-fringed beach. The song of the sea rose in a deep, loud booming, and gradually died away to a low, soft murmuring. The boys were lost in wonder at the beauty of the scene. Never had they seen such an expanse of water sparkling in the sun like the blue sky. Over its rippled surface the shadows ,of the clouds floated like sails across the sun.

Thugine, the serpent, had seen the boys coming from afar, and, while they played on the beach, he swam swiftly and silently to the shore and seized them. When the men arrived at the camp, they discovered the absence of the boys. They searched the bush all through the -night, and at dawn came to the beach. Far from the shore they saw two, black rocks jutting out of the sea. Then they knew that Thugine had taken the wandering boys and turned them into rocks. The men turned their faces again towards the camp; their hearts were heavy and their thoughts were sad.

To this day the rocks remain between Double Island Point and Inship Point, When a rainbow appears in the sky, the old men of the tribe tell the story of the disobedience and punishment of the wandering boys.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla17.htm

HOW THE SUN WAS MADE DAWN, NOONTIDE AND NIGHT

When the emu egg was hurled up to the sky it struck a great pile of wood which had been gathered by a cloud man named Ngoudenout. It hit the wood with such force that the pile instantly burst into flame, and flooded the earth with the soft, warm light of dawn. The flowers were so surprised that they lifted their sleepy heads to the sky, and opened their petals so wide that the glistening dewdrops which night had given them fell to the ground and were lost.

The little birds twittered excitedly on the trees, and the fairies, who kept the snow on the mountain tops, forgot their task, and allowed it to thaw and run into the rivers and creeks. And what was the cause of this excitement?

Away to the east, far over the mountains, the purple shadows of night were turning grey; the soft, pink-tinted clouds floated slowly across the sky like red-breasted birds winging their way to a far land. Along the dim sky-line a path of golden fire marked the parting of the grey shadows, and down in the valley the white mist was hiding the pale face of night.

Like a sleeper stirring softly at the warm touch of a kiss, all living things of the bush stirred at the caress of dawn. The sun rose with golden splendor in a clear blue sky, and, with its coming, the first day dawned. At first the wood pile burned slowly, but the heat increased, until at noonday it was thoroughly ablaze. But gradually it burnt lower and lower, until at twilight only a heap of glowing embers remained. These embers slowly turned cold and grey. The purple shadows and white mists came from their hiding-places, and once again the mantle of night was over the land.
When Ngoudenout saw what a splendid thing the sun was, he determined to give it to us for ever. At night, when the fire of the sun has burnt out, he goes to a dark forest in the sky and collects a great pile, of wood. At dawn he lights it, and it burns feebly until noonday is reached, then it slowly burns away until twilight and night falls. Ngoudenout, the eternal wood gatherer, then makes his lonely way to the forest for the wood that lights the fire of the sun.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla16.htm

WHY THE EMU HAS SHORT WINGS AND THE NATIVE COMPANION A HARSH VOICE

An emu with very long wings once made her home in the sky. One day she looked over the edge of the clouds, and down on the earth she saw a great gathering of birds dancing by a reed-grown lagoon. High in a gumtree the bell birds were making sweet music with their silvery chimes; the kookaburra, perched on the limb of a dead tree, was chuckling pleasantly to himself; while the native companion danced gracefully on the grass nearby.

The emu was very interested in dancing, so she flew down from her home beyond the clouds, and asked the birds if they would teach her to dance. A cunning old native companion replied: "We shall be very pleased to teach you our dances, but you could never learn with such long wings. If you like, we will clip them for you." The emu did not give much thought to the fact that short wings would never carry her home again. So great was her vanity that she allowed her wings to be clipped very short. When she had done so, the native companions immediately spread their long wings-which they had previously concealed by folding them close against their backs-and flew away, leaving the emu lonely and wiser than before. She never returned to her home in the sky, because her wings would not grow again. They have remained short and useless ever since. This is the reason why emus run very fast, but never fly.

After wandering alone for a long time the emu reconciled herself to a home on the earth, and reared a large family. One day she was walking through the bush when the native companion-who also had a large family-saw her in the distance. The native companion immediately hid all her chicks in the undergrowth, except one; then she approached the emu in a friendly manner, and said: "What a very weary life you must have feeding such a large family. You are looking very ill, and I am sure you will die. I have only one chick. Take my advice and kill your chicks before they kill you." The foolish emu again listened to the soft words of the other bird, and destroyed all her chicks.

Thereupon the native companion called in a low, sweet voice, "Geralka Beralka, Geralka Beralka," and all her fluffy little chicks came running to her from the bushes in which she had hidden them. The emu was frantic with grief when she realised what she had done; but once again she paid the price of vanity and idle flattery with a sad and lonely heart. The native companion was so eager to call her chicks after the cruel trick she had played on the emu that she twisted her neck, and lost her beautiful voice for ever. And now she can call with only two harsh, discordant sounds.

The seasons passed, and once again the emu had a big clutch of eggs. One day the native companion paid her a visit and pretended to be friendly, but the sight of her old enemy made the emu very angry. The emu made a savage rush at her, but the native companion hopped over her back and broke all the eggs except one. After dancing around for a little while, the native companion made a determined rush, and, seizing the remaining egg, threw it up into the sky.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla15.htm

HOW THE KANGAROO GOT A LONG TAIL, AND THE WOMBAT A FLAT FOREHEAD

Many years ago, Mirram the kangaroo and Warreen the wombat were both men. They were very friendly, and hunted and lived together in the same camping-ground. Warreen had a very comfortable gunyah made of bark and soft leaves, but Mirram who was a careless fellow-did not trouble to build a home. He was content to sleep in the open, by the side of a big fire, with the blue sky for a cover, and the green grass for a couch. This open air life was very nice in fine weather, when the stars twinkled in the sky like golden fire-flies, but it was extremely uncomfortable in the rainy season.

Ore night a great storm arose. The wind howled eerily, and rocked the tall trees to and fro as though they were shaken by the strong arms of an invisible giant. The rain fell in torrents, and darkness covered the light of the stars. The rain quickly quenched the glowing embers of Mirram's fire, and he was left to the mercy of the storm. After shivering in the cold for some time, he decided to seek the hospitality of Warreen. "Surely my friend would not refuse me shelter on such a night as this," he thought. "I will ask him."

Feeling very cold and miserable, he crept to the opening of Warreen's tent, and seeing there was sufficient space for both of them to sleep comfortably, he woke him and said: "The storm has killed my fire. I am very wet, and the cold wind has chilled me to the bone. May I sleep in the corner of your tent?" Warreen blinked his eyes sleepily and answered in a gruff voice: "No. I want to place my head in that corner. There isn't any room." With this rude remark he moved into the corner, but, as he could not occupy the whole space of the tent, another corner became vacant. Mirram went away and sat by the wet ashes of his fire, and his thoughts were as miserable as the weather. The fury of the storm increased, and looking anxiously at the rainproof gunyah of his friend, he decided to approach Warreen again. He entered the shelter, and, touching Warreen gently on the shoulder, said: "The wind is very cold, and as biting as the teeth of the wild dog. The rain is falling heavily and will not cease. I should be grateful if you would allow me to sleep in that corner. I will not disturb you." Warreen raised his head, listened to the moaning of the storm outside, and then replied: "I will not have you here; there isn't any room. Go outside and do not keep waking me." "But," replied Mirram, "there is room in that corner. Surely you wouldn't drive me out into the storm to die!"

Thereupon, Warreen moved one leg into the corner and again a space became vacant. Seeing he could no longer hoodwink Mirram and hide from him his selfish intentions, he grew very angry and yelled: "Get out! Get out! I won't have you in my tent. I don't care where you die." This harsh treatment exasperated Mirram and he left the tent in a terrible rage. Outside the tent, he groped around in the dark until he found a large flat stone. Then he crept silently to the gunyah. By the sound of heavy breathing he knew Warreen was asleep. Moving very silently, he entered the tent, and, raising the stone high in his arms, dashed it on the head of the sleeper. The terrible blow did not kill Warreen but flattened his forehead. When he had recovered from his pained surprise, he heard the mocking voice of Mirram saying: "That is your reward for treating a friend so cruelly. You and your children and their children's children will wander through the land with flat foreheads that men may know them for your selfishness." As Warreen was no match for his opponent, he did not answer, but nursed his sore head and some very bad thoughts. From that moment, he was always planning revenge for his injury.

Some time later, Warreen was hunting in the forest, and, through the shadow of the trees, he saw Mirram a short distance ahead. He crept noiselessly towards him, and, when Mirram was looking for the marks of a possum on the bark of a tree, he threw a spear at him with all his strength. The spear struck Mirram at the bottom of the back, and so deeply did it enter that he could not pull it out. While he was struggling with the spear, Warreen walked up to him, and, in a bantering voice, said: "Aha! My turn has come at last. I have waited long to repay you. You will always carry the spear in your back and wander without a home while you live. Your children will carry the spear and be homeless for ever. By these tokens, men will always remember your attempt to kill me while I slept."

From that time the kangaroo has had a long tail, which makes a low, thudding sound as he wanders homeless through the bush, and the wombat still has a very flat forehead as an everlasting sign of selfishness.

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WHY BLACKFELLOWS NEVER TRAVEL ALONE A LEGEND OF THE WALLAROO AND WILLY-WAGTAIL

Alone, on a rocky ridge high in the mountains, a wallaroo made his camping-ground beneath the shady boughs of a mountain ash. He was very old and infirm, and too weak to hunt for food, so he sat by his camp fire all the day and lashed the ground with his strong tail. The low, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of its beating could be heard above the song of the birds. One day a paddymelon was passing close by the camp when he heard the beating of the wallaroo's tail. After following the direction of the sound, he came to the camp, and asked the wallaroo if he was in trouble. "I am very sick," the wallaroo replied. "Many times have I seen the snow on the mountains, and I am growing too old to hunt. My brothers have gone to the river beyond the hills to spear fish for me, but they have not returned, and I am very hungry." The paddymelon was sorry for the old wallaroo, and offered to go to the river in search of the fishermen. He walked a short distance from the camp when the wallaroo, called after him: "You had better take my boomerang with you, as you may meet some game on your way." The paddymelon turned around and said: "All right, I shall take it. Throw it to me!" The crafty wallaroo picked up the boomerang, and, taking careful aim, threw it with all his strength. It struck the unfortunate paddymelon a terrible blow and killed him. The wallaroo took the fur from the dead animal and prepared the body for cooking. He dug a hole in the ground, lined it with stones, placed the meat in it, and covered it with flat stones. He then built a fire over it, and in a short time had cooked a tasty meal.

When the paddymelon did not return home, his relatives became very anxious about him. At last an iguana offered to go in search of the missing member of the tribe. He followed the tracks of the paddymelon through the bush, and they led to the camp of the wallaroo. When the iguana approached the camp the wallaroo was beating his tail on the ground. The iguana asked him if he needed any assistance, and, in a plaintive voice, the wallaroo told him the same tale that had been told to the unlucky paddymelon. The iguana was sorry for the old wallaroo, and offered to seek his relatives for him and tell them of his plight. When he turned to go, the wallaroo asked him if he would take a spear with him in case he met with any game on his way. The iguana said, "I will take it; throw it to me." The wallaroo had been waiting for this opportunity, and he hurled the spear so swiftly that it transfixed the iguana before he could jump aside. The wallaroo then prepared another meal as before.

One day passed, and yet another, but the iguana did not return to the hunting ground of his tribe. They sent a bandicoot in search of the iguana, but he met the same fate at the hands of the wallaroo. After waiting anxiously for the return of the bandicoot, the head-men of the tribe called a great council. When all the members were assembled together a headman said: "Many moons ago our brother the paddymelon left the camp before the sun was over the hills, and when night came he did not return, and his shadow has not darkened the ground for many days. The iguana went in search of him. He is a great hunter, but he has not returned. Yesterday the bandicoot followed in their tracks, but I fear the shadow of death has fallen over them. We must find them." Many suggestions were placed before the council, but none of them seemed practical. Then the willy-wagtail, who was a clever medicine man, spoke: "Long have we waited for the return of our brothers, and yet we do not hear their call. I shall follow their footsteps even to the shadowy hunting ground of death, but I shall return to you." The council consented to the willy-wagtail's proposal, but they were afraid that he would walk to the Land of Silence and never return.

Before dawn the willy-wagtail started on his dangerous and lonely journey. When he reached the summit of the mountain, he could see, far in the distance, the grey smoke of the camp fires wreathing slowly above the trees. With a sad but brave heart he continued his journey. After travelling for some time he heard the sound of the wallaroo beating his tail on the ground. At first he thought it was a wallaroo hopping through the bush, but, as the sound did not grow louder or fainter, he became suspicious, and approached the camp very cautiously. The wallaroo saw him approaching, and, calling to him, told him the same story as before. The willy-wagtail offered to seek his relatives for him, and, with this intention, started on his way. When he had gone a short distance the wallaroo offered him a boomerang. The willy-wagtail was very suspicious about his intention, and said: "Throw it to me; it will save me the trouble of walking back to the tree."

The wallaroo then threw the weapon with all his strength, but the willy-wagtail was prepared, and, as soon as the boomerang left the hand of the thrower, he jumped quickly aside. When the wallaroo saw he had missed his mark, and that his evil intentions were known to the willy-wagtail, he became furious, and threw all his spears and nullanullas at him, but failed to strike him. Then the willy-wagtail took the boomerang and threw it at the old wallaroo. It struck him a heavy blow on the chest and killed him. He then skinned him, and prepared to cook his flesh, but he was too old and tough to eat. He now took the skin and returned to the camp. When he told the tribe of the fate of their brothers they were sorely grieved, but their grief was turned to joy when the willy-wagtail showed them the skin of their enemy. The wagtail was rewarded by being made a headman of the tribe.

The headmen now decided that blackfellows should never travel alone. As a mark of remembrance, wallaroos have always had a strip of white fur on their breasts. It is an indication of the boomerang wound that killed the old wallaroo of Mountain Ridge.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla13.htm

WHY FLYING FOXES HANG FROM TREES A LEGEND OF THE STRIPED-TAIL LIZARD

The Flying Fox and the Striped-tail Lizard were friends. They lived in the same gunyah and hunted together. One day the lizard said: "I will visit a tribe of blacks with whom I am very friendly, and bring back a bundle of spears." The fox was very doubtful about the truth of the lizard's remarks, and said: "I would not like to wait for food until you get the spears." This annoyed the lizard, and, without replying, he set out on his journey. He wandered through the bush all day, but failed to find the blacks. He then followed the winding river for many miles, but without success. Towards nightfall, a storm swept down from the mountains; the wind howled eerily through the swaying trees, and the rain fell in torrents. The lizard was in a sorry plight. Weary and wet, he wandered through the bush and at last arrived at his gunyah. The door was closed, and, when he asked the fox to open it, the fox asked a question. "Have you any spears with you?" he called. Now the lizard knew that if the fox was aware of his unsuccessful journey, he would make great fun of it, so he replied: "I have a big bundle of spears. I met my friends at the in the land that lies beyond the sunset. Many dangers are there, O my brother. The evil spirits sing soft and low through the trees, like the voice of a maiden calling to her lover, and he who follows the sound of the voices goes on for ever, and never returns. The great Black Bat waits for you in the forest. You are weary with your long journey. Stay with us and rest you awhile; then you can return to your tribe."

Yoonecara was very pleased with the friendly reception he received, but he could not be dissuaded from his journey, and, after bidding them farewell, he continued on his way. Through the trees he could hear the voices of the Dheeyabry people calling to him to return, but he would not heed them. As he journeyed on, the voices grew fainter and fainter until they were lost in the great silence.

After leaving the Dheeyabry, Yoonecara travelled many days and arrived at a place where the March flies and mosquitoes were larger and more numerous than any he had seen before. The buzzing of the mosquitoes was like the sound of the bullroarer. They attacked him savagely, and, try as he would, he could not escape them. When he attempted to sleep, they settled on him in swarms and tormented him with their stings. In desperation, Yoonecara sat by a waterhole and built a fire. Then he considered his dangerous position. "If I cannot protect myself from these insects," he reflected, "my bones will soon be gleaming white in the sun. I have travelled far, but the journey is beyond the strength of man. I will return to my tribe." These were the thoughts passing through his mind. He then considered ways and means whereby he could protect himself against the mosquitoes, and at last discovered an excellent plan. He stripped a sheet of bark from a tree. It was as long as himself and of sufficient width to enclose his body. After tying bushes around his ankles and head, he doubled the bark around his body. With this protection, he journeyed through the Land of the Giant Mosquitoes. And, when he had no further use for his covering of bark he placed it in a waterhole in order to keep it soft, that he might use it on his return journey. After he had braved this danger, his courage returned, and he travelled on.

For some time, his journey was without adventure, but one day he came to the edge of a great boggy marsh known as Kolliworoogla. At the sight of this marsh, he thought further progress was impossible. After carefully examining the edge of the swamp, he discovered what appeared to be the trunk of a fallen tree that lay across it. He ventured along this dangerous bridge and safely reached the far side of the swamp. He then came to a place where there was a very high rock, which was hollowed out on one side like a cave. On approaching it, he found that it was a cave, and in it he could see his ancestor Byama, asleep. At last, Yoonecara had reached his long journey's end. Byama was a man of giant proportions-much bigger than the blackfellows of the present time. At the front of the cave, one of Byama's daughters, Byallaburragan, was sitting at a fire roasting a carpet snake. She offered a portion to the traveller, and said: "Long and weary has been your journey, O faithful one, and many the dangers that crossed your path. Like the light of the sun was the fire of your courage, and this shall be your reward. Your name shall be passed through the ages on the tongues of our people. You shall be honored as the only man who travelled to the home of Byama, and returned; for no man shall ever do the like again."

Around Byama's dwelling the country was very beautiful, and was a dream of delight to the weary traveller. The tall, green trees leaned towards the cave, and their leafy branches gave cool shade on the hottest day, while the song of the birds at sunset was like a mother crooning her baby to sleep. The grass grew high on the plains, and, when the wind blew, it billowed like the waves of the sea. In front of the cave, a stream of water, clear as crystal, ran its course to a deep lagoon. The water of the lagoon teemed with fish, and in the reeds, there were many ducks, swans, and other water-fowl.

After he had rested for some time in this pleasant land, Yoonecara returned to his own tribe and related his wonderful experiences. Soon after his return he died, and, since that time, no man has travelled to the Land of the Setting Sun.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla12.htm

WHY THE CROW IS BLACK

One day, a crow and a hawk hunted together in the bush. After travelling together for some time, they decided to hunt in opposite directions, and, at the close of the day, to share whatever game they had caught. The crow travelled against the sun, and at noonday arrived at a broad lagoon which was the haunt of the wild ducks. The crow hid in the tall green reeds fringing the lagoon, and prepared to trap the ducks. First, he got some white clay, and, having softened it with water, placed two pieces in his nostrils. He then took a long piece of hollow reed through which he could breathe under water, and finally tied a net bag around his waist in which to place the ducks.

On the still surface of the lagoon, the tall gum trees were reflected like a miniature forest. The ducks, with their bronze plumage glistening in the sun, were swimming among the clumps of reeds, and only paused to dive for a tasty morsel hidden deep in the water weeds. The crow placed the reed in his mouth, and, without making any sound, waded into the water. He quickly submerged himself, and the only indication of his presence in the lagoon, was a piece of dry reed which projected above the surface of the water, and through which the crow was breathing. When he reached the centre of the water hole he remained perfectly still. He did not have to wait long for the ducks to swim above his head. Then, without making any sound or movement, he seized one by the leg, quickly pulled it beneath the water, killed it, and placed it in the net bag. By doing this, he did not frighten the other ducks, and, in a short time he had trapped a number of them. He then left the lagoon and continued on his way until he came to a river.

The crow was so pleased with his success at the waterhole, that he determined to spear some fish before he returned to his camp. He left the bag of ducks on the bank of the river, and, taking his fish spear, he waded into the river until the water reached his waist. Then he stood very still, with the spear poised for throwing. A short distance from the spot where he was standing, a slight ripple disturbed the calm surface of the water. With the keen eye of the hunter, he saw the presence of fish, and, with a swift movement of his arm, he hurled the spear, and his unerring aim was rewarded with a big fish. The water was soon agitated by many fish, and the crow took advantage of this to spear many more. With this heavy load of game, he turned his face towards home.
The hawk was very unfortunate in his hunting. He stalked a kangaroo many miles, and then lost sight of it in the thickly wooded hills. He then decided to try the river for some fish, but the crow had made the water muddy and frightened the fish, so again he was unsuccessful. At last the hawk decided to return to his gunyah with the hope that the crow would secure some food, which they had previously agreed to share. When the hawk arrived, he found that the crow had been there before him and had prepared and eaten his evening meal. He at once noticed that the crow had failed to leave a share for him. This annoyed the hawk, so he approached the crow and said: "I see you have had a good hunt to-day. I walked many miles but could not catch even a lizard. I am tired and would be glad to have my share of food, as we agreed this morning." "You are too lazy," the crow replied. "You must have slept in the sun instead of hunting for food. Anyhow, I've eaten mine and cannot give you any." This made the hawk very angry, and he attacked the crow. For a long time they struggled around the dying embers of the camp fire, until the hawk seized the crow and rolled him in the black ashes. When the crow recovered from the fight, he found that he could not wash the ashes off, and, since that time, crows have always been black. The crow was also punished for hiding the food which he could not eat by being condemned to live on putrid flesh.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla11.htm

HOW THE STARS WERE MADE ROLLA-MANO AND THE EVENING STAR

Rolla-Mano was the old man of the sea. The blue ocean, with all its wonderful treasures of glistening pearls, white foam and pink coral, belonged to him. In the depths of the sea, he ruled a kingdom of shadows and strange forms, to which the light of the sun descended in green and grey beams. The forests of this weird land were many trees of brown sea-kelp, whose long arms waved slowly to and fro with the ebb and flow of the water. Here and there were patches of sea grass, fine and soft as a snow maiden's hair. In the shadow of the trees lurked a thousand terrors of the deep. In a dark rocky cave, a giant octopus spread its long, writhing tentacles in search of its prey, and gazed the while through the water with large lustreless eyes. In and out of the kelp a grey shark swam swiftly and without apparent motion, while bright-colored fish darted out of the path of danger. Across the rippled sand a great crab ambled awkwardly to its hiding place behind a white-fluted clam shell. And over all waved the long, brown arms of the sea kelp forest. Such was the kingdom of Rolla-Mano, the old man of the sea.

One day Rolla-Mano went to fish in a lonely mangrove swamp close to the sea shore. He caught many fish, and cooked them at a fire. While eating his meal he noticed two women approach him. Their beautiful bodies were as lithe and graceful as the wattle tree, and in their eyes was the soft light of the dusk. When they spoke, their voices were as sweet and low as the sighing of the night breeze through the reeds in the river. 


Rolla-Mano determined to capture them. With this intention he hid in the branches of the mangrove tree, and, when the women were close to him he threw his net over them. One, however, escaped by diving into the water. He was so enraged at her escape that he jumped in after her with a burning fire stick in his hand. 

As soon as the fire stick touched the water, the sparks hissed and scattered to the sky, where they remain as golden stars to this day.
Rolla-Mano did not capture the woman who dived into the dark waters of the swamp. After a fruitless search he returned to the shore and took the other woman to live with him for ever in the sky. She is the evening star. From her resting place, she gazes through the mists of eternity at the restless sea-the dark, mysterious kingdom of Rolla-Mano. On a clear summer night, when the sky is studded with golden stars, you will remember that they are the sparks from the fire stick of Rolla-Mano, and the beautiful evening star is the woman he captured in the trees of the mangrove swamp.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla10.htm

A LEGEND OF THE GREAT FLOOD

In the dream-time, a terrible drought swept across the land. The leaves of the trees turned brown and fell from the branches, the flowers drooped their heads and died, and the green grass withered as though the spirit from the barren mountain had breathed upon it with a breath of fire. When the hot wind blew, the dead reeds rattled in the river bed, and the burning sands shimmered like a silver lagoon.

All the water had left the rippling creeks, and deep, still water holes. In the clear blue sky the sun was a mass of molten gold; the clouds no longer drifted across the hills, and the only darkness that fell across the land was the shadow of night and death.

After many had died of thirst, all the animals in the land met together in a great council to discover the cause of the drought. They travelled many miles. Some came from the bush, and others from the distant mountains.

The sea-birds left their homes in the cliffs where the white surf thundered, and flew without resting many days and nights. When they all arrived at the chosen meeting place in Central Australia, they discovered that a frog of enormous size had swallowed all the water in the land, and thus caused the drought. After much serious discussion, it was decided that the only way to obtain the water again was to make the frog laugh. The question now arose as to which animal should begin the performance, and, after a heated argument, the pride of place was given to the Kookaburra.

The animals then formed themselves into a huge circle with the frog in the centre. Red kangaroos, grey wallaroos, rock and swamp wallabies, kangaroo rats, bandicoots, native bears and ring-tailed possums all sat together. The emu and the native companion forgot their quarrel and the bell bird his chimes. Even a butcher bird looked pleasantly at a brown snake, and the porcupine forgot to bristle. A truce had been called in the war of the bush.

Now, the Kookaburra, seated himself on the limb of a tree, and, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, looked straight at the big, bloated frog, ruffled his brown feathers, and began to laugh. At first, he made a low gurgling sound deep in his throat, as though he was smiling to himself, but gradually he raised his voice and laughed louder and louder until the bush re-echoed with the sound of his merriment. The other animals looked on with very serious faces, but the frog gave no sign. He just blinked his eyes and looked as stupid as only a frog can look.

The Kookaburra continued to laugh until he nearly choked and fell off the tree, but all without success. The next competitor was a frill-lizard. It extended the frill around its throat, and, puffing out its jaws, capered up and down. But there was no humor in the frog; he did not even look at the lizard, and laughter was out of the question. It was then suggested that the dancing of the native companion might tickle the fancy of the frog. So the native companion danced until she was tired, but all her graceful and grotesque figures failed to arouse the interest of the frog.

The position was very serious, and the council of animals was at its wits' end for a reasonable suggestion. In their anxiety to solve the difficulty, they all spoke at once, and the din was indescribable. Above the noise could be heard a frantic cry of distress. A carpet snake was endeavoring to swallow a porcupine. The bristles had stuck in his throat, and a kookaburra, who had a firm grip of his tail, was making an effort to fly away with him.

Close by, two bandicoots were fighting over the possession of a sweet root, but, while they were busily engaged in scratching each other, a possum stole it. They then forgot their quarrel and chased the possum, who escaped danger by climbing a tree and swinging from a branch by his tail. In this peculiar position he ate the root at his leisure, much to the disgust of the bandicoots below.

After peace and quiet had been restored, the question of the drought was again considered. A big eel, who lived in a deep water hole in the river, suggested that he should be given an opportunity of making the frog laugh. Many of the animals laughed at the idea, but, in despair, they agreed to give him a trial. The eel then began to wriggle in front of the frog. At first he wriggled slowly, then faster and faster until his head and tail met. Then he slowed down and wriggled like a snake with the shivers. After a few minutes, he changed his position, and flopped about like a well-bitten grub on an ant bed.

The frog opened his sleepy eyes, his big body quivered, his face relaxed, and, at last, he burst into a laugh that sounded like rolling thunder. The water poured from his mouth in a flood. It filled the deepest rivers and covered the land. Only the highest mountain peaks were visible, like islands in the sea. Many men and animals were drowned.

The pelican-who was a blackfellow at this time -sailed from island to island in a great canoe and rescued any blackfellow he saw. At last he came to an island on which there were many people. In their midst he saw a beautiful woman, and f ell in love with her. He rescued all the men on this island until the woman alone remained. Every time he made a journey she would ask him to take her with the men, but he would reply: "There are many in the canoe. I will carry you next time." He did this several times, and at last the woman guessed that he was going to take her to his camp. She then determined to escape from the pelican. While he was away, she wrapped a log in her possum rug, and placed it near the gunyah; then, as the flood was subsiding, she escaped to the bush. When he returned, he called to her, but, receiving no answer, he walked over to the possum rug and touched it with his foot. It, however, did not move. He then tore the rug away from what he supposed was a woman, but, when he found a log, he was very angry, and resolved to be revenged. He painted himself with white clay, and set out to look for the other blackfellows, with the intention of killing them. But the first pelican he met was so frightened by his strange appearance, that it struck him with a club and killed him. Since that time pelicans have been black and white in remembrance of the Great Flood.

The flood gradually subsided, and the land was again clothed in the green garments of spring. Through the tall green reeds the voice of the night wind whispered soft music to the river. And, when the dawn came from the eastern sky, the birds sang a song of welcome to the new flood-a flood of golden sunlight.

http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/mla/mla09.htm