Understanding Dadirri…. deep listening

'At the basis of Indigenous philosophies and educational strategies are the underlying principles of relationships and balance ... the individual is required to develop to the full, those personal attributes that can enhance the life of the group. Learning is very much a process of experiencing, of watching patiently and quietly, and of absorbing. Learning is a life-long process, which takes place formally and informally. As people become increasingly knowledgeable, and assert their knowledge, they also become increasingly responsible for teaching the new generation who will take over from them. In an Indigenous educational environment this ‘sharing of knowing’ is made possible through the literature of Orality, Iconography and Ritual: of narrative, song symbol, dance and drama.'
(Townsend-Cross, 2003, p. 3: We-Ali Dadirri Training)

Dadirri: With her permission, we introduce you to the words of Aunty Miriam-Rose Ungumerr-Bauman, a member of the Ngangikurungkurr people of the Daly River, and artist of the ‘Australian Stations of the Cross’. Aunty Miriam-Rose talked of the importance of Dadirri in Aboriginal culture, as a way of life for cultivating a deep level of mind awareness or mindfulness, at a presentation she gave in Tasmania, 1988, the year of the Australian bicentenary. (We-Ali Dadirri workshop):

“Dadirri is inner, deep listening and quiet, still awareness. Dadirri recognises the deep spring that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. This is the gift that Australia is thirsting for. It is something like what you call ‘contemplation’.

Aboriginal people have a special respect for Nature. The identity we have with the land is sacred and unique.

Aboriginal people have a very strong sense of community. All persons’ matter. All of us belong. We are a people who celebrate together.

When I experience Dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness. There is no need of words.

A big part of Dadirri is listening. Through the years, we have listened to our stories. They are told and sung, over and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and together we hear the sacred stories.

As we grow older, we ourselves become the storytellers. We pass on to the young ones all they must know. The stories and songs sink quietly into our minds and we hold them deep inside. In the ceremonies we celebrate the awareness of our lives as sacred.

The contemplative way of Dadirri spreads over our whole life. It renews us and brings us peace. It makes us feel whole again. One of our ceremonies that brings about this wholeness is the Smoking Ceremony.

We take part in the ceremonies. We love to see the painted bodies and to watch the dancers. We like the sound of the didgeridoo and the clap-sticks. We never feel alone in the ceremonies. Sometimes, at a corroboree, before the dancing has started, we sit and listen as the song-men or song-women begin the story. Everyone is relaxed. We feel secure and happy. We are all together and it is good.

People are dying inside. Yet, as a people, we still survive. Survival is something that has become part of us from centuries of struggle and endurance. Culture keeps on growing.

In our Aboriginal way, we learn to listen from our earliest days. We could not live good and useful lives unless we listened. This was the normal way for us to learn - not by asking questions. We learnt by watching and listening, waiting and then acting. Our people have passed on this way of listening for over 40,000 years.

We are not threatened by silence. We are completely at home in it. We have lived for thousands of years with Nature’s quietness.

Our Aboriginal culture has taught us to be still and to wait. We do not try to hurry things up. We let them follow their natural course - like the seasons. We watch the moon in each of its phases. We wait for the rain to fill our rivers and water the thirsty earth. When twilight comes, we prepare for the night. At dawn we rise with the sun.

We watch the bush foods and wait for them to ripen before we gather them. We wait for our young people as they grow, stage by stage, through their initiation ceremonies. When a relation dies, we wait a long time with the sorrow. We own our grief and allow it to heal slowly.

We wait for the right time for our ceremonies and our meetings. The right people must be present. Everything must be done in the proper way. Careful preparations must be made. We don’t mind waiting, because we want things to be done with care. Sometimes many hours will be spent on painting the body before an important ceremony.

We don’t like to hurry. There is nothing more important that what we are attending to. There is nothing more urgent that we must hurry away for.

We don’t worry. We know that in time and in the spirit of Dadirri (that deep listening and quiet stillness) the way will be clear.

We are like a tree, standing in the middle of a bushfire sweeping through the timber. The leaves are scorched and the tough bark is scarred and burnt: but inside the tree the sap is still flowing, and under the ground the roots are still strong. Like that tree, we have endured the flames, and we still have the power to be reborn.

Our people are used to the struggle and the long waiting. We still wait for the white people to understand us better. We ourselves have spent many years learning about the white man’s ways; we have learnt to speak the white man’s language; we have listened to what he had to say. This learning and listening should go both ways.

We know that our white brothers and sisters carry their own particular burdens. We believe that if they let us come to them - if they open up their hearts and minds to us - we may lighten their burdens. There is a struggle for us; but we have not lost our spirit of Dadirri

There are deep springs within each one of us. Within this deep spring, is a sound. The sound of Deep calling to Deep. The time for re-birth is now. If our culture is alive and strong and respected, it will grow. It will not die. And our spirit will not die. I believe that the spirit of Dadirri that we have to offer will blossom and grow, not just within themselves, but in our whole nation.“