Sunday, April 13, 2008

River Deities by Sylvie Shaw


The river valley sits shrouded in fog. Outside the valley the sun glows.

In other places, other cultures and other religions, the river is the Goddess. Likewise, the living spirits of rivers are depicted as deities, for instance, as snake, python, anaconda, dragon. Frequently, these deities are female perhaps because the element of water is regarded as a feminine essence embodying 'life, birth and rebirth, creation and creativity, but also with death and oblivion' (Parente-Čapková, 2006).

The question then arises, does the Brisbane River and the downstream embayment Moreton Bay, have a feminine or goddess quality? In a contemporary sense, and in relation to Goddess spirituality, practitioners might honour the River as a Goddess and through this honouring and ritualising, seek protection for the ecosystem and creatures who live along the watery terrain.

In India river Goddesses like the sacred Ganga and Yamuna are under severe threat. I have written previously in this blog about the insightful book with the difficult message by David Haberman, River of Love in an Age of Pollution (2006), which stories the Goddess Yamuna who flows in the upper reaches of the Ganges. The river is both a river of death - and a river of love.

Both the Ganges and the Yamuna are believed to be spiritually pure but both are in appalling physical shape with raw sewerage, industrial and agricultural runoff, toxics and heavy metals flowing through these vital waterways. These rivers are the Goddess. Spiritually they are divine, reverential, beautiful. Devotees worship the Goddess by immersing themselves in Her sacred flow or conducting ritual washing in Her sacred waters. Yet sadly, while doing so, they are facing serious waterborne diseases and the risk of contact with toxic chemicals.

Sathya Gosselin (nd) in her paper Pollution and Ganga Ma writes of the Ganges or Ganga, as the great mother who 'mercifully provides for the people each year with her swelling monsoon ... Indians receive her with great blessings and appreciation; village farmers benefit greatly from the fertile silt and soil that the great Ganga leaves behind. Seasonal flooding leaves small pools and lakes (jhils) that are diverted to irrigate crops in an otherwise dry land ...[She] speaks life, renewal, and fertility...'. But, says Gosselin, she is being assaulted.

Gosselin's article talks about the problems in India of first, defining the term 'pollution', second, explaining what's happened to the vast amounts of funding directed to the Ganges' clean up campaign, and third, the frustration of local residents not consulted about the river's management plans.

She says that the very term pollution is problematic when the river Herself is spiritually pure but suffering from impurities. Gosselin cites the anthropologist Kelly Alley (1994) who grapples with this dichotomy - the spiritual versus the westernised resource management approach. For devotees, 'the Ganga can never be impure' (1994:130). She is a powerful force and can carry the impurities and pollution 'away into the ocean'. In this comment Alley recognises that the Goddess is believed to have the power to transform impurities and offer absolution whether spiritual and/or physical and this includes body wastes. It has thus been so.

This cultural difference in ways of seeing (and revering) sacred water brings me back to the Brisbane River and the contemplation of Goddess spirituality. There are a number of possible modes of thought and action worth reflecting on. For instance, in a (post/most)modern world there is a view that anything (or almost anything) goes. So in this perspective it may not really matter what the river is called as long as it is cared for. Indeed, regarding the river as a Goddess might very well engender an ethic of greater care and concern among residents and if so, acknowledging the sacredness of the water's tidal flow and its downstream embayment can be seen as a positive move.

On the other hand there is the spectra of cultural appropriation. Goddess spirituality as it is practised in Australia is one of a number of emergent religions connected to the spread of interest in earth-based spirituality, feminism, Paganism and the New Age movement. But indigenous cultures including Native Americans and Aboriginal people have rejected these individualised New Age spiritual movements not only because they tend to romanticise indigenous cultures, particularly the spiritual and ecological lifeways, but also due to practitioners borrowing, stealing or misappropriating sacred rituals and sacred beliefs.

Christina Welch (2002) criticises New Agers for buying and selling these precious practices saying that they are simply reaffirming capitalist consumer culture. She comments that they lack an active political engagement in, and understanding of, the plight of indigenous peoples. At the same time she maintains that indigenous people should not be defined solely as the 'victims' of cultural appropriation concluding that: 'The colonialist presentation is refuted by indigenous agency in the dynamic of cultural growth.' In this way Welch tries to steer a balanced path.

My view falls somewhere in between - 'Embrace the River Goddess' at one end and 'Condemn cultural appropriation' at the other. While I would find it difficult to overlay an indigenously-venerated waterway with a Goddess-inspired spirituality from ancient and/or distant lands, I can see that others might revere the local river with a spiritual demeanour which reflects their own cultural heritage.

For example, Bryne et al (2006) in their article 'Enchanted Parklands' cites a wonderful story of a Vietnamese-Australian living around the Georges River in SW Sydney who regards the river as the embodiment of the sacred Dragon and defines locations along the river as parts of the dragon's anatomy.

In this light, the Brisbane River could be re-inscribed as Goddess and worshipped by those whose spirituality is defined as Goddess spirituality.

Reference
Alley KD, 1994, 'Ganga and gandagi: interpretation of pollution and waste in Benaras,' Ethnology, Spring, 33, 2.
Byrne D, H Goodall, S Wearing and A Cadzow, 2006, Enchanted Parklands, Australian Geographer, 37, 1, 103-115.
Gosselin S, nd, Ganga Ma, paper prepared for the Goddess Traditions in India and Tibet seminar at Vassar College, http://reli350.vassar.edu/gosselin/index.html
Haberman DL, 2006, River of Love in an Age of Pollution: The Yamuna River of Northern India. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Parente-Čapková V, 2006, Narcissuses, Medusas, Ophelias...Water Imagery And Femininity In The Texts By Two Decadent Women Writers, Wagadu, 3, Spring, http://web.cortland.edu/wagadu/Volume%203/Printable/capkova2.pdf
Welch C, 2002, Appropriating the Didjeridu and the Sweat Lodge: New Age Baddies and Indigenous Victims? Journal of Contemporary Religion, 17, 1, 21-36. http://www.wlu.ca/documents/6482/Appropriating_the_Did.pdf
This is a copy of Sylvie Shaw's blog, http://rivercityandsenseofplace.blogspot.com

Downstream, it's a long way down by Sylvie Shaw


The mouth of the Brisbane River was carefully hidden from the early explorers. The entrance was narrow, sheltered by Fisherman's Island, tangled rain forest, a tightness of mangroves and the huge spreading Moreton Bay Fig. It was as if, states one historical account of the river, '[n]ature herself seemed to have made certain that the river would never be found' (ABC, 2008).

It is said that the explorer John Oxley 'saw such beauty that it took his breath away.' Oxley was so staggered by the lushness and fecundity of flourishing colour that he wrote:

'From the giant trees hung vines and creepers of every description, staghorns by the thousands jostled for space with the wild passionflowers. And here and there extra dark green patches of palms and giant fern forests were sprinkled with the delicate colours of thousands of orchids. And on the river itself Oxley’s boat glided through millions of pink and white water lilies' (ABC, 2008).

The Fishing Monthly laments this spectacle of disappeared and disappearing beauty, saying: 'It's hard to believe that the Brisbane River, as recently as 170 years ago, was lined with rainforest, clear running creeks, and teemed with fish and wildlife beyond your imagination' (Lee, nd).

The results of such drastic environmental change can be seen in research on water quality. The SE Queensland Healthy Waterway study on ecosystem health of the Brisbane River estuary states that water quality is 'generally poor' due, in part, to the concentration of nutrients from sewage and stormwater runoff which flows straight into the precious mangrove-encased Moreton Bay.

Along with the damage to the Brisbane River and Moreton Bay ecosystems, many of Australia's rivers, estauries and embayments are in trouble, none more so than the Murray Darling Basin and the end of its long and seemingly arduous flow, the wondrous Coorong on Australia's southern shore.

In 2006 The Age newspaper declared the Coorong 'dead'. The article began:

'To witness the death of a beautiful, wild creature would be torture enough for most lovers of nature. To witness the decline of a beautiful, wild ecology along a fabled stretch of Australia's coast has been the excruciating duty of biologist David Paton for 20 years' (Chandler 2006).

It's hard to imagine that a river can stop flowing. That birds now stroll across the mud where once a sacred river ran. This situation was highlighted in a recent blog from Angry Pengiun (April 2008) who documented the sad plight of waterbirds as well as other deleterious effects along the Coorong.

'The swans were walking in the river. Yes, walking. In fact I walked in the river – quite a long way across dry mud to photograph a group of perplexed-looking ducks and pelicans sitting on an island that did not used to be there.'

In contrast, early settler accounts of the Coorong described 'vast flocks of waterfowl [that] once blackened the skies over this world-renowned South Australian wetland' (Chandler, 2007). But now water bird numbers have dwindled. Fish species are missing. Extinct perhaps.

Coorong researcher David Paton says that a major cause is the lack of environmental flows. 'Sure,' he says, 'you’ll have a Coorong with water in it, but it … isn’t going to go back to what it was.' (Chandler, 2007). Elsewhere he says: 'Wetland systems deteriorate without environmental flows... [The] Coorong had capacity to cope with drought – but not an extended period of no flow.'

The Brisbane River flows. Slowly. Windingly. Tidally. Breathe the tides flowing in the water, salt to fresh, ocean to river, moon to ocean to river to flow.

Reference
Angry Penguin, 2008, Coorong so wronged, http://angrypenguin.blogspot.com/2008/04/coorong-so-wronged.html, April 7, 2008.
Australia's Centenary of Federation, 2001, Oxley's Discovery Of The Brisbane River, ABC, April 19, 2001.
Chandler J, 2006, The Coorong is dead. What's taking its place? The Age, Jan 21, 2006.
Chandler J, 2007, The Great Coorong – A Biological Barometer, The Age, Jan 29, 2007. Found on: www.aph.gov.au/SENATE/COMMITTEE/rrat_ctte/traveston_dam/submissions/sub149.pdf
Lee M, nd, The Brisbane River, Fishing Monthly, http://www.fishingmonthly.com.au/AreaArchives/qldarchives-ft/southernqld/Brisbane/98Feb-Lee.html
Paton D, nd, Lessons Learned from the Coorong. Powerpoint presentation, http://media.litfuse.com.au/2007/paton.pdf
This blog is a copy of a recent post by Sylvie Shaw: http://rivercityandsenseofplace.blogspot.com

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Windows...

Tiarna Jade Riches

(Photography by myself)




Wilderness is a place to rediscover our own wildness

Peter Cock, from Monash University, validly wrote the above statement in his work called “Soulfulness from Place” (pg 6). I see this slightly differently however. I have always been fascinated by windows, and have found my own freedom and “wildness” by observing. In my mind, windows symbolize curiosity and knowledge. Curiosity is a major personality trait of mine, and knowledge is what I want to spend my life obtaining. Windows, in this sense reminds me of myself.

My bedroom window is my sanctuary. As one would find peace in nature- I find my peace simply observing it. From my window I can see the trees, the vines, and the vast sky stretched out above. Some nights, when life becomes a little too stressed, or chaotic, I sit at my window in silence, observing the calmness or pure nature. The gentle winds caress the leaves, while the cloudy sky encompasses the moon, and pours a soft and soothing light onto the world.








I taste the early morning dew; the crisp fresh air beckoning me outside with its purity. I smell the dawning new day and the new air from the nature in front of me. As I take in these senses, I can see that each tree and each leaf has its own unique shade of green, purple, and yellow. As the seasons change, I notice my own special secret garden change colour. This changes the way I feel also- in winter, I see a somewhat sad and mysterious atmosphere out my window. However, in spring, the view seems more cheerful and bright. All of these atmospheric feelings have strong emotional impacts on me, and all of them are beautiful. Peter Cock explains this in his work Soulfulness from Place, by writing that “Spirituality is also available through observation of what is happening with the rest of nature” (pg 4).


The feeling I get most from gazing out of my window is hope, mystery, and the excitement of the unknown. Also, being a believer in reincarnation, the view reminds me of some familiar scenery from what could be a past life of mine.





Living in the same room for thirteen years, I have a strong connection with that view from my window, and I have learnt to feel the energies of nature even though I am not standing in it, but through admiring and observing.

***

The window nearest to my desk at work is somewhat different to my window at home. First of all, the window does not open- which makes me feel claustrophobic and caged. The view through this window is harsh and modern- which is, I suppose, beautiful to some. I, however, have never been one to enjoy that much modernism.




There are buildings and shops outside the window at work, sitting across the busy, yet sadly lifeless road. I can see two trees, but they are embedded in concrete, trapped and strangled, next to the passing cars and tarred black ground.

The view from my window is cold and blank. All I can seem to think about is the waste of paper from the amount of printing being done, and the claustrophobic air conditioning around me. There is no pleasant smell besides the green tea which constantly sits in front of me. There is no taste besides the sickly aftertaste from licking envelopes. The atmosphere from this window makes me feel dismal, and I often resort to closing the blinds to focus on other things.

This window is the first window I have been so disappointed in gazing out of. I can usually find beauty in any window- my world is a window through my eyes. Somehow though, this view strikes me as somewhat offensive. I do not agree with the almost complete absence of natural energy, because it is not good for the soul and discouraging in a place where one should be inspired to work. As Jan Lundberg, author of Culture Change, validly states in one of her articles, “When we attempt to cut ourselves off from nature we engage nature in an unusual, deadly way” (5:1). Also, Peter Cock agrees with this by stating that “These pressures [modern technology, etc] all come together to deprive us of soul from place” (pg2).

I must say though, sometimes, I can see the distant mountains beyond the buildings out of that window, and it lets me hope, and smile in anticipation of seeing nature more closely when I get home.

I must say, I much prefer my secret garden window at home, to the almost lifeless window at my work. However, even in the most polluted of sceneries, there are still tiny pieces of nature- you just have to focus on them and be happy that nature’s energies will always be around you, no matter where you are.



Cock, P. 2008, Soulfulness from Place, Social & Sacred Ecology, http://socialsacredecology.org/system/files/SoulFromPlace.pdf

Lundberg, J. June 2004, Separation from Nature Impossible despite Rising Social Alienation, Culture Change, http://www.culturechange.org/e-letter-separation.html

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Wild Rivers and Reciprocal Flow

Sylvie Shaw

The wild is a place, a way to be, a process (i.e. to go wild) and a perception about what happens when wild land and wild waters are paved over, smothered or pulverised. This blog touches on some of the integral viewpoints of the effects of wild and wilderness.

Drastic changes along the river, and to the river's ecosystem, have been largely directed by developers responding to government strategies for the need to house the growing population in, and migration to, S.E. Queensland. In this action drama, the Brisbane River and its environs take centre stage as the target for transformation. Bushland, mangroves, water quality and water flow are affected, while river creatures, fish, snakes, birds, bats and insects, are forced to make way for a human population, many of whom are increasingly seeking river views, or even 'river glimpses' (quote from recent real estate advertisements).

The actors in this river drama are the residents, water users and water policy makers for whom the river seems not to have rights outside of human use, not even the right to its own water. These actors define water in anthropocentric terms, as a resource and development magnet that bypasses intrinsic value and extends storey after concrete storey high into the sky and along the river edge. As a result, the river, its tidal flow and its wild heart are covered with an economically-driven canopy.

Thus, in this era of rapid growth, there is little room for salvation of beauty, redemption of aesthetics, preservation of natural capital or for holding onto biodiversity outside of human use. Sustainable development seems a forgotten concept.

To explore these notions a little further, I have recently re-visited the work of wonderful Native Canadian novelist Jeanette Armstrong. In her article in Roszak, Gomes and Kanner (1995) titled 'Keepers of the Earth', Armstrong describes the image of non-indigenous people portrayed by her grandparents. They saw white settlers as being out of place, wild and insane, similar concepts to the way that early settlers regarded indigenous people.

For example in Australia, colonialists referred to Aborigines as ‘indolent in the extreme, squalid and filthy in their surroundings’, as well as ‘disgustingly impure amongst themselves’ (in Reynolds, 1987:108). Overtones of this attitude still exist today. Aboriginal people continue to be shown in the media as either drunk and violent (wild), sitting in the dirt surrounded by mangy dogs (dirty), or painted up and dancing for tourists (marginal objects). They remain in this picture, a people without agency compelled to live in a static past.

To illustrate the impact of these changes place and person, the anthropologist Deborah Bird Rose (1988) cites an Aboriginal elder and one of her Yarralin informants, Daly Pulkara, as saying that once white settlers arrived and began to irrevocably alter the land, it became 'wilderness', i.e. man-made, cattle-grazed, mined, desacralised. It became a place, in Aboriginal eyes, where 'life is absent'.

These examples highlight the difference between the way indigenous cultures perceive wild land and wild people and the way non-indigenous western cultures construct notions of the wild and wilderness. For an indigenous culture which has lost sacred land, or has been removed from country, there is a parallel between the dismemberment and despiriting of the land and the despiriting of identity.

Aboriginal people are born into an obligatory relationship with the land where caring for country is part of their reciprocal responsibility to place and community. In light of this sacred relationship, Rose (in another article) comments:‘To be in connection is to take care and to be cared for’ (Rose, 2006). Re-memorializing and resacralizing the land through ritual and other community-spiritual processes might create a re-memorying of sacred connection between people and place.

Taking care and being cared for are also qualities which have emerged from research into non-indigenous wilderness experiences. Although there are a number of studies into the significance and spirituality of wilderness experiences, particularly on the role of wilderness in therapy, self-development and revitalisation of youth 'at risk' (e.g. the TV series Brat Camp), there is little research on the emotional and spiritual effects of nature engagement in urban areas, such as along the Brisbane River, and limited studies on how people connect with nature in their daily lives, whether in urban or rural areas.

This research is crucial as without it planners, officials and developers can cover over green spaces and lop down suburban trees leaving less opportunity in the cityscape for nourishing the human spirit (physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual).

In comparison with a generation ago, urban dwellers have less everyday contact with the natural world. This is driven by an increasing involvement in the virtual world, widespread consumerism, intensification of the built environment, and a decline of public open spaces. Accompanying this external change, there may be a corresponding shift in consciousness and attitudes about the environment.

By this I mean that if city dwellers are removed from nature, if they don't know the intricacies of seasonal changes, if they have not fallen for the tidal movements, the glittering water, the delicate bird song, or tuned into the nuances along the river for instance, how and why would we expect them to want to protect this place?

Without solid Australian research on spiritual and psychological effects of nature connectedness and nature disconnection there is only limited evidence from which to argue for the preservation and expansion of wild city spaces. And without regular and direct sensual engagement with the natural world, people may not make the link between the lack of nature in their lives and their own wellbbeing and the wellbeing of the environment.

Nature in city environments is so familiar we may take it for granted. But it is being whittled away little by little, so we may not notice the change until it is too way late. Get out into nature and help save the earth.

References
Armstrong J, 1995, 'Keepers of the Earth,' in T. Roszak, ME Gomes, & AD Kanner, Eds., Ecopsychology. Restoring the Earth. Healing the Mind. San Francisco: Sierra Club.
Bird DB, 1988, 'Aboriginal Land Ethic,' Meanjin, 47, 3, 378-387
Bird DB, 2006, 'What if the Angel of History were a Dog?', Cultural Studies Review: Environments and Ecologies. 12, 1, 67-78.
Reynolds H 1987, Frontier: Aboriginal Settlers and Land. Sydney: Allen & Unwin.
This is a copy of the latest blog entry, River Stories and Sense of Place, http://rivercityandsenseofplace.blogspot.com