Sunday School
Lands of the Awabakal people.
My good friend Leanne, whose faith I do not share but who shares my own love of nature, told me recently that the church she loves best is the church of the sky and the forest.
I think I already guessed this about her, but it made me reflect on my own worship - of tree and of river, of sea and stone and mountain. It made me think too of long nights of ceremony, years ago now in a distant desert with the traditional owners of that land, and the sound of ancient songs sung by firelight beneath the slowly whirling stars.
Meg has told me, too, that I am myself at my best out there in a desert - or on a mountain, by a river or in amongst the trees, so it was Sunday today and the first sun after a week of rain and I grabbed my bike and pedalled out to a place where I could listen to the world and feel like the infinitesimal element of it that I am.
It wasn’t all that far away and I soon found the latest version of a track I have known, in various forms, since I was a child. It leads down through a little rainforest filled valley, past a waterfall or two, to the ocean. I slid to a halt, locked my bike to a fence in the latest version of the carpark, and headed out to see what I could sea…
And this is what I found.
Come with me?
Sunday School
This
was the world
not waiting for me
but being itself, patiently,
not caring what day I thought it might be.
This
was the land
wedding itself
to the sea with a gift of
water, wrung from the hills, secretly.
Onto
the beach
under the sky -
each cloud palpable -
a symbol, a portent, a parable.
Over
the ocean -
that endless story -
articulated on the tongue
of the sand, each wave a syllable.






Hi Alexander.
Oh! That is just the nicest comment to make, my friend. Thank you!
I hope you get back to the sea soon!
Best Wishes - Dave :)
Thank you David - beautiful! And I appreciate your audio.