I was man-handling a bag of soil-encrusted Kipfler potatoes last week, hands buried amongst the muddy miniature spuds when I brushed my hair out of my face with the back of my hand and looked down, realising I was dressed almost entirely in green, a living breathing stereotype of an Irish person. Someone close by also noticed the cliche, we shared a laugh and began talking. We spoke about the potato not being Irish at all, a South American import to Europe and more accurately a symbol of British colonialism and imperialism we agreed. Chillis too were not part of Asian cuisine he remarked, yet another colonial import from South America by the Portuguese.
This led us down a glorious rabbit hole of conversation, on food and place, non-nationalism, about what we think is ours but is not, non-identification, non-labelling, non-self, ancient philosophies of circularity, constant change, the non-existence of past and future. We discussed the changing landscape through history, the shift of seas and mountains, decimation and regrowth, and our total lack of control. It was a rich and sumptuous five-minute deep dive into complex themes buoyed by humour. I felt delightfully befuddled and satisfied with the shared unknowing.
I can do small talk because I have to in polite society, I would happily have more deep and meaningful conversations more often, however. These sorts of conversations so rarely arise with strangers or even friends and family. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe we find it more comfortable to live at the surface, avoiding topics that might nudge us off our axis and make us question things, existential things. But what is it about big talk and deep thinking that is more appealing for some of us?
I wonder if it is the precariousness of philosophical meanderings that appeals to me, I don’t have any clear answers on so-called taboo topics like death, money, sex and religion, that’s probably why I like talking about big issues because it helps me orient myself, understand where or how I stand and think on things and I love listening to other peoples perspectives and insights. I like to be challenged by different concepts and ways of thinking and understanding things. I’m less than confident with even the most basic theories of physics, and my maths is beyond appalling, but talk to me about nature of the universe, consciousness and existence and I'm all yours. And, when science overlaps with philosophical thinking, or reference to ancient and indigenous thinking and mythology I'm in seventh heaven, or on cloud nine, or should I say cumulonimbus?
Conversations like these emerge like meteorological phenomena, unfolding with a magical confluence of forces, almost impossible to predict. They contain some common ingredients though, humour and openness certainly help, and curiosity. Add kindness to that equation. For a meaningful conversation to flow we require the suspension of judgement. The ability to stand outside your own tightly held beliefs and see what comes of it without the need to know it all, a pinch of equanimity if you will.
Before writing this piece I attended an online meditation session with a non-secular mindfulness meditation teacher who spoke about non-attachment and non-identification and not personalising situations we can’t control or change. After the meditation, the Buddhist concept of Annata (read this explainer for more) came up in the group conversations. A meaty topic I thought, secretly delighted that someone mentioned it because it was a theme in the potato-chilli-constant change conversation. The concept is hard to grasp and harder still to practice within meditation or day-to-day interactions. What occurred to me afterwards was that some simple ideas are the most challenging for us to understand. In the case of 'Annatta', the limitations of language, translation and the original context of the teachings are so far removed from our daily lives and the complexity of modern Western living that makes it more difficult to contextualise. The impermanence of all facets of our being, that constant flux of everything around us, is eh, scary, confronting, confounding. Don’t get me started on dark matter or quantum physics - just ask Schrödinger. So, I do understand the desire to stay in touch at the surface, in the realm of what we think we know for sure.
I had another experience before unravelling the fabric of existence during my meditation session, a revelatory walk. It's the last few days of Autumn here and it was an exquisite clear, calm and sunny day. I knew that most local walks would be interrupted by 'human noise', so I stuck my earphones in, played a podcast and took to a well-trodden path. When I say human noise, I mean machines, motorbikes primarily, and leaf blowers, I’m certain I’ve mentioned them here before, and of the two I don’t know what's worse?! The podcast didn't last long however because I nearly came-a-cropper over a huge rock when I caught a glimpse of a Pied Currawong right above my head on a branch extracting a spider from a leaf, a leaf curling spider to be exact. It wasn't in the least bit bothered by me observing it and such close quarters and when it finished its snack it set its sights on me! Not for its next course, it just seemed curious, and the feeling was mutual, so we looked at each other, I turned and walked a few steps, and it followed, hopping from branch to branch, and again we stopped, looking at each other for what felt like an age. The earphones stayed off and I listened to a cacophony of birdsong, and motorbikes tearing down the tourist drive. That didn't stop the birds who were out in huge numbers, Eastern Whip Birds, all kinds of Honeyeaters, Red Browed Finches, Splendid Fairy Wrens and teeny tiny Weebils.
With all the bird chatter I didn't hear the din of the traffic, it faded into the background and I realised I hadn't noticed it for several minutes at least, so totally transfixed with all the birdlife. It was as though in a way, I’d slipped into a meditation, a flow state or deep conversation with the birds, a lovely liminal space, a place that is not always so accessible in the midst of modern life. A moment, much like that lovely conversation, a happenstance maybe, though it seems there is another force at play, a willingness or surrender to what might emerge in a space, place, time or interaction.
Living in the depths of the unknown and inexplicable may be be an uncomfortable place to live all the time, but I do long for those glimpses into the mysterious. These magical moments of shared awe and wonder, of threading together stories or ways of being that unlocks doors, evolves our thinking and dismantles what we once knew. I long for those moments of mutuality, of reciprocity with people, places or creatures, when our attention is drawn to something new, something beautiful. There is a current, an electricity within connected moments that propels us somehow, they are generative, filling our reserves so that we might continue explore again, and be delighted.
Natures notes is proudly written on and inspired by Dharawal Country. I recognise the Dharawal & Wodi Wodi custodians and ancestors who have an enduring connection to land, water and skies.
Always Was and Always Will be Aboriginal Land.
Perhaps one reason we don't enter into those relms of deep inspirational conversations with family is that we share opinions and outlook, we take each other for granted and unconsciously believe that we agree on many subjects- maybe..... Anna, a lovely journey into nature induced meditation.
Just beautiful Anna, I love the concepts and experiences you describe, they all link together with such meaning :)