in the shadow of Uluru

The silence of the desert is punctuated alternately by crickets and wild dogs in the distance. The moon almost reflects on the red dirt and the gum trees are transformed into silver fountains.

The simplicity of fully being present in the moment is sharply contrasted with the gross injustice surrounding this most sacred centre of Australia. Should I make a list? 1. there is no money for housing at Mutujulu (the Aboriginal community here), but the Park service just built a 2o million (that's right- twenty million) dollar "viewing" platform for tourists. 2. the children of Mutujulu are not "allowed" to have a pool, because of expense and water... um, but at Yulara (the tourist resorts on the "other" side of the rock) every hotel and campground has a pool. 3. the only store in Mutujulu is run by non-indigenous people and the prices are exorbitant.

I could take up pages and pages to list what is unfair, unjust, violent and how much the government has betrayed and ignored these people. The contrast is in kinships and the kind of spirit most people only see at the movies. But how can I possibly describe what it is really like? Even being here and standing in country, my empathy can only go so far.

It's the journey, cliche or not, that is the guts of it all. Little lessons, new stories, letting go of pre-conceptions, self-reflection, helplessness, empowerment and most of all... simplicity. Everything comes down to love or fear, and this powerful place of violence and creation is no exception.