Occupy your life

To seek change takes courage. The old system doesn’t want to let loose of its grip anytime soon. None more so than within one’s own life.

I took a walk out to the “Point” the other evening. Sitting down, I watched the sun break through clouds that for most of the day had drizzled soft welcoming rain. In the quiet of the evening light a deep gratitude washed over me to have been blessed with this property Windgrove and the life I’m able to experience here.

But it didn’t just fall into my lap. It took listening — really listening to and heeding — the “still, small voice” that resides within all of us. A voice, though, that is generally pushed aside because of ……. well, any number of seemingly “rational” reasons.

Around this time twenty years ago in 1991, I purchased a 100 acre barren, sheep ravaged parcel of coastal land and threw in my tenured position at the School of Art, University of Tasmania, in order to strike out on an unknown path that I had absolutely no idea where it would lead to other than it would deepen and transform myself and my life’s Work in a big, big way.

At the time all I had to go on was a gut feeling that I needed to leave “the system” if I were to make full use of my pledge made the previous New Year to: “Be of service”.

This would not be a weekend hike in the woods. It would be a complete re-write of the societal script I, as a westerner, was born to follow.

Most of my friends cautioned against the move. Many felt I was suffering from a middle age crisis brought on by the burning down of my house nine months earlier. Who in their rational mind, they argued, would, at the age of 45, quit a very sought after university position and move to a remote block of land far from the capital city Hobart?

Despite their protestations, I wanted to trust my gut instincts, but some residual uncertainty did cling to my waking mind. One night a very clear, unambiguous dream made me wake up feeling totally assured of the correctness of this audacious act.

The following is the story of the dream that gave me a complete confirmation of my heart’s decision.

The whole dream takes place in the building where I had taught for seven years. A simple explanation of its architecture is a four story roofed building surrounding an atrium courtyard. Classrooms and studios ring the outside walls. Between the 1st and 2nd levels is a glass dome. The upper levels look down upon the glass dome.

In the dream:

I am on the ground floor of the art school expressing the wish to leave, but three, then four, then five anonymous men dressed in grey suits start coming towards me voicing displeasure. I walk to the stairwell and ascend to the next floor.

Looking around me I see eight, then a few more men coming towards me telling me in louder and louder voices “You can’t leave this institution. It is forbidden.” I walk to the stairwell and ascend to the 3rd level.

There are many more men this time. In fact, they are coming out of all the classrooms all around the walkway; the walkway that looks down upon the glass dome. Their voices are increasingly getting louder and more strident. It is also getting darker. I walk to the stairwell and ascend to the 4th and top level.

There are now about 100 grey suited men coming from everywhere, now screaming: “You must stop this foolishness. You must remain here. You must remain one of us. We will get you in the end.”

As they press forward I have no where left to go. It is very dark in the building. I look slowly around face to face, eye ball to eye ball, at these sad, lifeless men and know full well I would rather leap to my death than surrender to their deadness. Without hesitation I climb on top of the guard rail, stand for moment and then push off with all my strength into a beautiful swan dive with arms outstretched in complete surrendered abandonment and plummet to the glass dome three floors below.

I smash into the glass with such force that thousands upon thousands of shards are splintered everywhere. Simultaneously, a thick, soft, velvety red curtain drape appears and I wrap my arms around it.

The drape — like when a theatre curtain falls between acts — lowers me in a standing position to the ground. As a dog shakes water off its back, I shake off the many bits of glass. There is a door. I open it and walk outside to a sun filled, tree filled, very green landscape to begin the next phase of my life.

Several months later, with a badly constructed mile and a half driveway, only candles for light, no phone, no running water and no flush toilet, I knew Death driving around in his shiny black stretch limousine looking at a suburban map detailing linear streets, white picket fences, tidy lawns and 2.5 children would have great difficulty finding me in my camouflaged bus. Great difficulty, indeed.