Commentary and context at the end
Friendship
Let friendship be a tree
Unto which we have sown the seeds
And given the nurture of the rains
And the warmth of the sun
Let time be the guardian of this tree
For it will not know the meaning of the seasons
Never to wither or grow bare but dwell
In an everlasting summer.
Let not the vastness of the land
Be a barrier to this tree
For the wind is its messenger
Who will beckon across the rivers
And over lofty hills whispering
In your ear: ‘To never forget the tree
Unto which we have all sown the seed
And given the nurture of our hearts’
Curiosity
Curiosity is a most endearing virtue
It is the bond between us
For never does the fire of our souls burn brighter
Than when it is truly understood
Not so much a window
As a door through which we are all free to pass
For by no other means
Are we kept from the closing of the mind
A man whose beard is feather-white
Whose face is rich with valleys and gorges
Like some rugged land
May have a spirit that is yet a child
But heed the stone of prejudice
For it bars the way
And may make you stumble at the threshold
But leave it at the threshold of the curious
And it will not follow you
For beyond the door is wisdom
And that is the enemy of prejudice
Love
Compare thy love to the sun
Whose everlasting and immutable radiance shines forth out of its own nature
And not for the hearts of Man alone
And let it bring nurturance to All those who wish to bask in its warmth
Such that the hearts of others may be kindled by kindness
And the world transformed into a starry night
Set ablaze with innumerable points of light
Friendship and Curiosity were written in 2016 following a week-long excursion to Arnhem Land. It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I dedicated the poems to Will Pitt-Thacker, Meg Cossar and Jess Compton who were our guides from the Red Earth organisation.
Friendship was meant to express connection across space and time, the bittersweet longing of being so close and then so far.
Curiosity expresses the difference between youth of the spirit and youth of the body. By being curious we open so many doors to the world and to the hearts of people around us.
A Memoir to Arnhem Land (Day 7)
Arnhem Land is a place like no other. Staring out the window of the Troopie, there’s a land of rugged mountains and vast sweeping plains, verdant wetlands and gurgling billabongs. Now that it was the last day of the immersion, I felt a pang of longing for it all, amazed that in so little time I had grown so close to a world so far. There was a palpable charm to the place that made one forget the sweltering heat and the flies that insistently braved any attempt to be batted away. In the last week, we had done things here that were quite unbecoming of teenagers. We’d fought to put up a tent in pouring rain, hacked wood, made spears, built a seedling shelter, shared cooking and cleaning duties and found joy in making food for the group. In the midst of this frenzy of activities. life became a simple pleasure. Now that it was all drawing to a close, I found it hard to let go.
Another shudder as the Troopie went over a rough patch and I turned my attention to the conversations in the Troopie – another iteration of BLT (a guy called Ben Le Tran). By the time we got off, the sun was already hanging dangerously close to the horizon. Clambering atop a rocky precipice, we watched birds move in tacit arrays across the sky while becoming enveloped by the soft lapping of water in a nearby creek and the gentle symphonies of cricket chirps. In a moment, the sun sizzles and disappears beneath the horizon and a blizzard of stars fill the velvet sky. I remember the other night when the locals sang a farewell song so beautiful it left us between a smile and a tear, and the Bull Rush games we play with Tyson and Ewan at the creek. Presently, the moment passes and after our group reflection down by the rocks, we return to Toad Hall and have spaghetti Bolognese. I sit in to a story that Marcus is telling and a realise how only a week ago, I had hardly known these year 11’s. That hardly seems to matter now.
I will never forget the bonds I had forged here and the very human warmth of the people that have made this place so meaningful. Together we had found a harmonious rhythm, but more than that, it was a way of life.
Love was written for my Bahai friends. The idea of the sun as a metaphor for unconditional love came to me after reading Klara and the Sun, but it turns out to mirror the Bahai writings really closely:
Detachment is as the sun; in whatsoever heart it doth shine it quencheth the fire of covetousness and self. - Bahá’u’lláh, Bahá’í World, V 1, p. 42
Consider again the sun when it is completely hidden behind the clouds. Though the earth is still illumined with its light, yet the measure of light which it receiveth is considerably reduced. Not until the clouds have dispersed, can the sun shine again in the plenitude of its glory. Neither the presence of the cloud nor its absence can, in any way, affect the inherent splendor of the sun. The soul of man is the sun by which his body is illumined, and from which it draweth its sustenance, and should be so regarded. - Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, p. 154
The idea is that the sun shines forth warmth and radiance (love and truth) out of its own intrinsic nature and not for the sake of others’ (‘not for the hearts of Man alone’), though we receive its goodness. The sun does not ask for our reciprocation and its radiance is persistent, such is the nature of divine, unconditional love.
I believe that seeing things from a human perspective is ultimately limited. True healing and transformation requires the channeling through the human mind of much higher ideals.
Or as the Enlightenment Era poet Alexander Pope wrote in his Essay on Criticism (1711):
To err, is to be human; to forgive, divine