Read Mutant Message Down Under Online

Authors: Marlo Morgan

Tags: #Itzy, #Kickass.so

Mutant Message Down Under (9 page)

BOOK: Mutant Message Down Under
4.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

I thought of the American doctors who are doing work now with positive mental imaging in treating cancer patients. Most of them are not very popular within their peer groups. What they are exploring is too “new.” Here was an example of the oldest people on earth using techniques that had been handed down through eons of time and proving their value. Yet, we so-called civilized folks don't want to use positive thought transference because it might be just a fad, and we cautiously agree it would be better to wait awhile and see how it works out on a few select conditions. When a critically ill Mutant has been given all the doctor's available treatments and is on the brink of death, the physician tells the family that everything within his or her power has been done. It is true, how many times I have heard the remark, “I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do. Now it is in the hands of God.” Funny how backward that seems to be.

I don't believe the Real People are superhuman in their approach and treatment of illness and accidents. I sincerely believe everything they do can be explained in our scientific analysis. It is just that we are striving to create machines to accomplish certain techniques, and the Real People are proof it can be done without an electrical cord.

Humankind is wandering around, struggling, but on the continent of Australia the most sophisticated healthcare techniques are happening only a few thousand miles from the ancient practices that have saved lives for all time. Perhaps someday they will unite and a full circle of knowledge will emerge.

What a day for global celebration!

D
URING THE
day the wind shifted and gained in intensity, and we struggled as sand pelted against our bodies. Our tracks on the earth surface vanished the moment they appeared. I strained to see past the red dust. It was like a vision through bloodshot lenses. Finally we found shelter along the side of a rocky ridge and huddled to protect ourselves from the harsh treatment. Wrapped in skins, sitting eye-to-eye, I asked, “What exactly is your relationship to the animal kingdom? Are they your totems, your emblems that are reminders of ancestry?”

“We are all one,” was the reply, “learning strength from weakness.”

I was told the brown falcon that continued to follow us reminded the people that sometimes we believe in what we see immediately ahead of us. If we only lift ourselves and soar higher, we can see a view where a much bigger picture is taking place. They told me that Mutants who die in the desert because they see no water, and become angry and despondent, actually die from emotion.

The Real People tribe believes humans still have evolutionary learning to do as a global family. They believe the universe is still unfolding and not a finished project. Humans seem too busy being to become
beings
.

They spoke of the kangaroo—the silent, usually gentle creature that grows from two to seven feet tall and is found in earth colors of soft silver-gray to copper red. At birth the red kangaroo is the size and weight of one kidney bean, yet at maturity it stands seven feet tall. They think Mutants make too much of skin colors and body shapes. The main lesson taken from the kangaroo is that it does not step backward. It is not possible for it. It always goes forward, even when going around in circles! Its long tail is like the trunk of a tree and bears its weight. Many people choose kangaroo as their totem because they feel a real kinship and recognize the necessity of learning balance in their personality. I liked the idea of looking back over my life and considering, even when it appeared I had made mistakes or poor choices; on some level of my being, it was the best I could do at the time. In the long run it was going to prove to be a step forward. The kangaroo also controls reproduction and ceases to multiply when environmental conditions warrant.

The slithering snake is a learning tool when we observe its frequent removal of the outer skin. Little is gained in a lifetime if what you believe at age seven is still how you feel at age thirty-seven. It is necessary to shed old ideas, habits, opinions, and even companions sometimes. Letting go is sometimes a very difficult human lesson. The snake is no lesser nor greater for shedding the old. It is just necessary. New things cannot come where there is no room. He looks and feels younger when he strips himself of old baggage. He isn't younger, of course. The Real People laughed because keeping track of age seems senseless to this tribe. The snake is a master of charm and power. Both are good to have but can be destructive when they become overwhelming. There are many poisonous snakes whose poison can be used to kill people. It works well for that, but like so many things it can also be used for a meaningful purpose, such as helping the person who has fallen into an ant mound, or someone tortured by wasps or bees. Real People respect the snake's need for privacy in the same way each of them requires some time alone.

The emu is a big, powerful, flightless bird. It helps the harvest of food because it is a fruit eater; by voiding seeds as it travels, we enjoy widespread abundance of plant foods. It also lays a large green-black egg; it is a totem of fertility.

The dolphin is very dear to the Real People tribe, although they no longer have much access to the sea. The dolphin was the first creature with whom they could experience talking head-to-head, and it shows that life is meant to be happy and free. They learned from this master of games that there is no competition, no loser, no winners, only fun for all.

The spider's lesson is never to be greedy. It shows that objects of necessity can be objects of beauty and art as well. The spider also teaches that we can become too easily enraptured with ourselves.

We talked about the lessons of the ant, the rabbit, the lizards, even the wild brumbie—the wild horse of Australia. When I spoke of certain animals becoming extinct, they asked if Mutants did not realize that the end of each species is a step closer to the end of the human species.

Finally, the sandstorm ended. We dug ourselves out. Then they told me that agreement had been made about my animal kinship. It was determined from watching my shadow, my manner, and the stride I had acquired upon my developing padded feet. They said they would draw the animal for me in the sand. While the sun shone like a spotlight before me, they used their fingers and toes as pencils. The outline of a head appeared, someone added little round ears. They looked at my nose and projected that shape onto the sand. Spirit Woman drew the eyes and told me they were the color of mine. Then spotted markings were added, and I teased, saying my freckles were all covered up now. “We do not know what this animal is,” they said. “It does not exist in Australia.” They felt the female of the perhaps mythical species would be the hunter, and she would travel alone comfortably much of the time. She would put the welfare of her cubs before her own life, or that of her mate. Then, smiling, Ooota added, “When this animal's necessities are met, it is gentle, but its sharp teeth do not go unused.”

I looked down at the finished picture and saw a cheetah. “Yes,” I said. “I know this animal.” I could relate to all the teachings from that big cat.

I remember how still it seemed that night; and I reasoned the brown falcon, too, must be at rest.

A crescent moon was hanging in the cloudless sky when I discovered our day had passed as we were talking instead of walking.

S
ISTER TO
Bird Dreaming stepped into the morning circle. She was offering to share her talent with the group if that was in the best interest of all concerned. If it was, Divine Oneness would provide. We had not seen a bird for two or three weeks except for my faithful friend, the brown falcon with the dark velvet wings, who came swooping over our moving group and always came nearest my head.

The people were very excited about the event, and by then I, too, believed birds would appear out of nowhere if that was in the plan for our day.

The sun had cast its bright orange halfway down the side of the distant hills when we saw them approaching. It was a flock of very colorful birds, bigger than the parakeets I used to keep in a cage at home, and similar in the variety of colors. They were so numerous it was impossible to see blue sky between the flapping wings. Suddenly the sound of boomerangs hissing in the sky was combined with the language from the fowls. It sounded like the birds were clamoring insistently, “Me, me, me.” They fell from the sky in groups of twos and threes. Not one single bird lay on the ground suffering. They were killed instantly.

That night we had a wonderful meal, and the group was provided with multicolored feathers. They made headbands and chest plates, and used some to construct pads for women for use during their monthly menses. We ate the meat. The brains were scooped out and kept separate. They were dried and used later, some mixed in the herbal medicines, and some mixed with water and oil in the tanning processes. The few leftover parts were put out for the group of wild dingo dogs that trailed us from time to time.

There was no waste. Everything was recycled back into nature and back into the earth. This was one picnic that left no trash; in fact, you could barely tell we had ever camped and eaten at any of our sites.

They are masters of blending in, using yet leaving the universe undisturbed.

W
E HAD
finished our meal for the day. The fire was a soft glow of embers, and occasional sparks rose into the surrounding limitless sky. Several of us sat in a circle around the flickering patterns. These people, like many Native American tribes, believe when you are sitting in a circle it is very important that you observe the other members of the group, most especially the person sitting directly opposite you. That person is a spirit reflection of yourself. The things you see in that individual that you admire are qualities within yourself that you wish to make more dominant. The actions, appearances, and behavior that you do not like are things about yourself that need working on. You cannot recognize what you deem to be good or bad in others unless you yourself have the same strengths and weaknesses at some level of your being. Only the degree of self-discipline and self-expression differ. They believe the only way a person ever truly changes anything about himself is by his own decision, and that everyone has the ability to change anything he wants to about his personality. There is no limit to what you can release and what you can acquire. They also believe the only true influence you have on anyone else is by your own life, how you act, what you do. Believing this way makes the tribal members committed every day to being better persons.

I was sitting across from Sewing Master. Her head bent as she gave serious concentration to the repair job at hand. Earlier in the day. Great Stone Hunter had come to her after the water vessel he carried around his waist belt suddenly fell to the ground. It was not the kangaroo bladder filled with our precious cargo that wore out, only the leather strap holding it to his side.

Sewing Master cut the natural thread with her teeth. They were worn smooth and about half their original height. Raising her head from the working posture, she said, “It is interesting, Mutants and aging. Jobs one grows too old to perform. Limited usefulness.”

“Never too old for worth,” someone added.

“It seems business has become a hazard to Mutants. Your businesses were started so people could get better items collectively than they could get for themselves and as a method to express individual talent, and become part of your money system. But now the goal of business is to stay in business. It seems so strange to us because we see the product as a real thing, and people as real things, but business isn't real. A business is only an idea, only an agreement, yet the goal of business is to stay in business regardless. Such beliefs are difficult to understand,” Sewing Master commented.

So I told them about the free-enterprise system of government, private ownership, corporations, stocks and bonds, unemployment benefits, social security, and unions. I told them what I knew about the Russian form of government, and how the Chinese and Japanese economies differ. I have lectured in Denmark, Brazil, Europe, and Sri Lanka, so I shared what I knew about life in those places.

We talked about industry and products. They all agreed, automobiles were handy objects of transportation. Being a slave to the payment of it, however, and possibly being involved in an accident where you would most certainly have a confrontation to settle, possibly creating an enemy, and sharing the limited desert water with four wheels and a seat, wasn't worth it, in their opinion. Besides they are never in a hurry.

I looked at Sewing Master sitting across from me. She had many remarkable traits I admired. She was well versed on the history of the world and even on current events, yet she did not read or write. She was creative. I noticed she offered to make the necessary repair for Great Stone Hunter before he asked. She was a woman with a purpose; she lived that purpose. It seemed true; I could learn from observing the one sitting opposite me in the circle.

I wondered what she thought of me. When we formed a circle, someone always sat opposite me but there was never a big rush for the position. One major flaw, I knew, was asking too many questions. I needed to remember that these people shared openly, so when the time was right, I would be included. I probably sounded like some pesty child.

After we had retired for the night, I was still thinking about her remarks. Business is not real, it is just an agreement, yet the goal of business is to stay in business regardless of the outcome on the people or the product and services! That was quite an astute observation for someone who has never read a newspaper, seen a television, or listened to the radio. At that moment I wished the entire world could hear this woman.

Maybe instead of calling this place the Outback, they should consider it the center of human concern.

BOOK: Mutant Message Down Under
4.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Snows of Yesteryear by Gregor Von Rezzori
Women's Barracks by Tereska Torres
Little Coquette by Joan Smith
Prayers for the Stolen by Clement, Jennifer
Just Stupid! by Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton
Eye of the Beholder by Kathy Herman
Healer's Choice by Strong, Jory
Magic City by James W. Hall