At the start of the year we took time to reflect on our experience facilitating and experiencing the five retreat series labour of love around the Medicine Wheel last year:
If you’d like to join us this year, here are the dates & some deets:
Mark your calendars and please pass on the Spotty Gum Peace Centre retreat dates for 2026!
And if you’re near Moruya, you’re invited to join an author’s talk and discussion about indigenous science & the Medicine Wheel on Thursday February 12 at 2:30pm.
Blog by Lukas
There are many different ways to reflect upon the tumult of world right now. Indeed, the very sense that things are particularly tumultuous is in some ways a mirage, and like all mirages, is born of perspective.
Reflecting to a fellow millennial about the relative tranquility of the 1990s of my childhood, it didn’t take long to think of some examples that demonstrate the extent to which this was not true for everyone. The Rwandan genocide and the war in the Balkans immediately came to mind, as well as famine in Somalia, the Oklahoma City, Port Arthur, the Japanese death cult that released nerve gas on the subway. The 90s weren’t really that tranquil.
But like all things that feel deeply true, and therefore should not be dismissed outright, I can’t ignore the sense that there is something different about this moment in time. I think this is especially so for those of us who live in the Western world, but if we expand that out to people deeply impacted by the goings on in Western world, it seems pretty clear that everyone is affected to one degree or another.
The key to making sense of all of this might be to open ourselves to the possibility or multiple truths, dualities and both/ands. This may need intentional nudging given that most of us have been socialised to believe in one overriding and logically derived ‘truth.’
Perhaps we can simply say that things are different, but also the same. In Indigenous science, the practicality of this might hinge on where we are, who we’re talking to or what we’re focusing on. In other words, truth as something fluid, and relational. Or it could just be a duality.
So what IS different about this moment?
Of late, I’ve been struck by the extent to which so many of the problems in the world can be put down to poor or unwise leadership, and by extension (though I’m not sure in which direction this flows), real eldership.
Bad leadership is of course not new. It is so not new that many people speaking from a modern perspective utterly saturated in bad leadership for hundreds of years, argue that it is more or less innate and inevitable. Such a perspective sees greed as omnipresent, force as the strongest power, and power inherently leading to domination and corruption. I cannot stress how wrongheaded and unwise these kinds of maximalist perspectives are in my opinion, but suffice to say, I do see it as useful to see this darkness as an inevitable part of human nature.
The potential to play host to the psycho-spiritual virus of greed (beautiful elucidated as a concept called Wetiko/Windigo in some Native American cultures ) and putting one’s own needs too far above those of fellow humans (and ultimately, the planet), is clearly endemic, and in a sense, a permanent potentiality of the human shadow. But it does not have to be so dominant as it is at present. Many cultures knew and understood this, and created environments to fortify against it by actively nurturing and fostering wiser ways of living (including of course good leadership), and also creating taboos that served to suppress it.
So again, what’s different about now compared with recent history? I feel the need to answer that question with other questions:
To what extent do the performative aspects of good leadership actually mean better leadership and less Wetiko? And is it better to have the symptoms and impact of bad leadership show themselves more subtlety and insidiously, inviting more trickery and deception into our lives, or is it better to have things boil over and fester openly, destructively and chaotically?
Here are two stark examples of these ways of being: the US President sending the Secretary of State to the UN Security Council to make the case for the 2003 Invasion of Iraq (and then doing it anyway when they said no) versus the US President not bothering with anything of the kind before taking the President of Venezuela; Israeli leaders throughout most of its history officially espousing a two state solution to the ongoing violence (even when actions belied this intention) versus the current Israeli Prime Minister declaring his open hostility to the idea, and arguably therefore, any hope of peace or freedom and self determination for Palestinians.
To me, of the many concepts that we can use as an easy synonym for ‘wise leadership’, the simple act of being graceful during hard times, especially with rivals or people who threaten you, is one of the better ones.
Grace is defined in the dictionary in two main ways:
Its proto Indo European deep root is *gʷerH (don’t ask me to decode that!) and relates to praise and welcome. The possibilities for a rich tapestry of wise leadership and eldership under such a concept are profound. It means responding, not reacting. Welcoming not just people, but events, which means not rejecting things existentially. It means being grateful for hard things, not just easy things.
But back to the question. How much does what I’m going to call ‘performative grace’ indicate real grace, and how much do we need it?
To start with, ‘performative grace’ is on a continuum. Not as good as something more real, substantive and completely embodied, but meaningful, and better than no attempt at grace. And of course, we need to be on the lookout for genuine intentions versus pure trickery. Trying to do better versus merely pretending to care.
When the current US President was elected for the second time, I chided someone I know for saying “he’s no worse” than the other candidate. I had the benefit of a close up perspective of life in the United States as a social worker and knew that many vulnerable people were about to suffer even more.
But reflecting now, I think even beyond the direct impact of destructive actions, there is a clear difference between current leadership and what has come before in terms of the intention, or performance, of grace. And this matters.
To me it is clear that even a pretence of grace results in less short term suffering. The mechanisms for this are too innumerable and complex to be fully explained rationally. We just know it when we experience its impact, including in our own individual lives. Intention is an impactful force in and of itself.
So the more grace embodied in our leadership, even if it’s mostly intentional, the less short term suffering there’ll be in the world. But it’s beneath us — beneath our potential — to be forever stuck at only performative grace. Perhaps we need the most toxic and graceless leadership elements in our midst to dominate for a while in order to expose more vividly those blocks stopping us from having leaders that genuinely embody grace more fully.
We can grieve that we will all be hurt by this, and at the same time we must not only grieve, but allow ourselves the natural instinct of struggle to make things better right now. This might mean settling for genuine performative grace if that’s truly the best we can do. It often feels like the best I can do in my own individual life, with my own self-leadership, as depressing as that may feel.
However difficult, holding the paradox that we can both accept the need for harsh medicine whilst also striving to ease suffering along the journey is an important spiritual skill, for any person, culture or society.
Reflection: How can we be better at accepting where we’re at whilst also aiming for better, all from a place of grace?
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And even after years of this commitment, I can still feel profoundly torn at times, like I’m being called to discard a deeply engrained aspect of identity. Coming up lately have been some foundational traumatic experiences that caused me to feel unsafe in the world. My father, an reliable ancestral helper, recently apologised for being cowardly in not tackling his trauma, and I was reminded/warned to keep honouring (demi) goddesses like Freyja, Inanna and Changing Woman. (Image of Changing Woman from a Diné sand painting)
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Blog by Valerie
We recently revisited one of my favourite childhood movies with our daughter, Ferngully. I was reminded of the depiction of pure destruction and the power and joy of that aspect of our nature in the character of Hexxus (what a metaphorical name!).
I like to refer to the cycle of the Earth as birth, life, death and rebirth, but I’ve also seen it as birth, life, decay and death. I consider death to be a process of decay so to me that’s an overemphasis, but what I like about it is the reminder that it’s part of a natural cycle. And shouldn’t creatures who support death and decay be celebrated as well? (Image from here)
We recently got some king oyster mushroom spawn and are going to try to get some growing out of stumps and sawdust. Fungi are experts at death/decay. Many of them we enjoy eating and cultivating, but of course a few are poisonous, some with lethal levels of toxins. The possibility of those few highly toxic ones (I saw estimates of 2-3% of all fungus) is enough to make most of us too scared to forage unless we can confidently get a positive ID.
If 2-3% of the news and goings on in the human social world were highly toxic and potentially lethal, it would be easier to live with witnessing the death/decay aspect of our being. But that isn’t the level of toxicity I now perceive, nor the level I grew up experiencing as a child.
We talk about avoiding toxic people, toxic chemicals, but we can’t totally escape our environments. Sometimes we hear about miracle bacteria that can eat petrol and clean the ocean. I feel like that’s a better metaphor for what we socially need to aspire to rather than just avoiding. Avoiding means we’re giving space to poisonous people to keep going down their path. And that affects us all. Fighting, even with the most righteous and pure hearted warrior energy, literally creates toxins in our bodies. So we’re still fuelling the poison. But transformation or alchemy is a different spirit. It is at the root of the metaphor I love of turning sh*t into fertiliser. (Image from here)
Physically I avoid engaging with highly toxic people as best I can so that: spiritually I can hold the relationship with unconditional love and acceptance; emotionally I can weather the intensity of feelings of the poison lingering in me and the pain of doing alchemy; and mentally so I can process what behaviour was love and what was hatred that feels so familiar I thought it was love because in my innocence that was all I knew.
Reflection: Destruction is vital to our planet. Toxic destruction isn’t, and we all suffer for it. Alchemy helps me. What helps you move through it?
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That resonated, because years before then when I lived in South Africa, I used positive psychology to survive danger (murder, fire, death threats, riots — if you’re interested you can read about it in my short novel). I drove around repeating to myself, ‘I am safe’. It helped, and it was exhausting to keep up that mindset in such circumstances. When I got back to the US, all I did for three weeks was sleep, walk in the woods and cook. I had a lot to rebalance, and I knew my positive psychology coping strategy was a form of trickery, or sorcery.
There’s a common myth that healing can be completed, like we can cross it off a list. A wounded healer is often understood to be someone who’s “finished healing” in many ways and is ongoingly healing deeper layers in their life. There are some lessons that we don’t revisit in our lives, and others we are surprised come up again: “I thought I/he/she was over that by now!” (Image from here)
I have been noticing thoughts coming up about a belief in trusting that I have everything I need, so if, for example, my family isn’t around, then I mustn’t need them. I needed to think that way to survive estrangement; it was a balm for a big, painful abandonment wound that I carry. But I don’t need that sorcery, that positive psychology trickery, anymore. The truth is, I do need my family, and I am actively experiencing abandonment every moment of every day we can’t relate. What I can trust is that I need to strengthen my capacity to be with the pain of the wound. My capacity to be truthful and neutral about a wound is my medicine as a Medicine Woman. And embodying my medicine strengthens me and those around me. That allows me to protect myself better, so I don’t play out abandonment games with others in my life. When I have the capacity to accept and hold the truth, that I both need my family and don’t have them in my life, then I feel more empowered and more whole. The wound gives me purpose and defines my medicine. (Image from here)If you value this content, please engage in reciprocity by living, sharing and giving.
I have noticed a pattern to the hateful messages I receive from other politically Indigenous folks. The person states their cultural affiliation (usually Aboriginal Australian, sometimes Native American), then attacks mine. The comments are about one of my online offerings, but are directed to an unknown reader using othering language. They open with language like “I’m really interested how she can claim…” while expressing no interest in dialogue. Most comments occur on weekend evenings from males. It’s clear the person didn’t read more than a paragraph or two about me and my life’s work.
In the medium and long term, I find these helpful:
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You are invited to visit the beautiful Nan Tien Buddhist temple in Wollongong, enjoy the monthly markets, nourishing cafes, and peaceful energy of the temple grounds and partake in a short & fulfilling workshop to deepen your understanding of the Medicine Wheel and its relevance in your life.
A revived one-day mini retreat on the central coast is being finalised for Saturday Oct 18 if you would please save the date. Details coming soon!
Big blessings to everyone, with thanks for your interest in this work and being important members of our community around Australia & the world. ❤ Valerie
I remember a book that made news years ago about parenting being all joy and no fun. To me, that says the parent is overwhelmed and may not know any other way to lead and set up their life. I’ve seen quite a bit of a so-called ‘gentle parenting’ approach, which feels like a reaction to authoritarian parenting and actually seems to me to stress out the children by giving them too much leadership space and not enough containing and consequences to uphold values and norms.
It seems to me in an effort to limit the destructive impact of the existential judgment and punishment wound in the western worldview, there arose a popular idea that yelling at kids destroys their self esteem. I do not agree. I think expressing anger and showing that it’s an intense emotion that we all experience is part of healthy leadership. And after I express anger, I offer a cuddle. I tell my child that I love her no matter what I’m feeling, and that there’s nothing wrong with her. (And if I was angry with someone else, I make sure to tell her it wasn’t about her and still offer a cuddle if she wants.) She now says to us, ‘Sometimes we get angry’ with the same tone as ‘Sometimes we get sad’ or ‘Sometimes we get wrinkles’ (referring to what happens in the bath). It shows me she feels that it’s okay to experience intense emotions within herself and with others in her environment (Image from here).If you value this content, please engage in reciprocity by living, sharing and giving.
Earth Ethos 