Dreamtime, the word, or should I say, the sentiment that it carries, still resonates in me each time it comes to mind, like a gust of wind chimes tinkling through a forlorn evening, or the celestial sound of a flute whistling across the lavender sky. It brings to mind a mystical period in time of blooming flowers and floating rainbows, a time of creation. The Aborigines of Australia greatly revere Dreamtime and believe it to be the birth of existence, and they express this reverence through a ceremony dubbed “Corroboree.”
As I set foot on the northern islands of Australia, native home to many Aboriginal tribes, the atmosphere around me tenses, not because of anxiety, or fear, or uncertainty…but because of the mystical aura that engulfed me; an aura that grabs you by the collar and thrusts you into a transient daze where reality is a dream and dreams become reality…Dreamtime. I witness the world in its prime, a torrent of creation, a vortex of plants, animals and inanimate objects zooming into existence. I witness the mountains, lakes, and streams manifesting into entities we see in everyday life, and I’m dumbfounded. A split second later, I am propelled back into actuality by a powerful unknown force, and before me stand a group of Aborigines who happily greet me. The land on which I stand is ravaged to my eyes, brought upon by the scenes played and replayed by Hollywood, scenes that often depict misery, sorrow, or another sentiment that I know not of, a sentiment so strange that you can only seize it at the moment and no where else.
The Aborigines are perhaps the oldest surviving civilization on earth with a history of over 40,000 years. They are a hunter-and-gatherer group of people, who, like most indigenous groups, respect and value the lands that provide them with the resources to survive. They, too, live in simple houses, eat wild berries, hunt game, fish by canoes and survive by tradition. They, too, have been isolated from human contact for many, many years. And they, too, have Shamans with mystical powers. Nonetheless, one special trait distinguishes the Aborigines from the other indigenous peoples of the world, and that is the fact that they believe that every entity is their ancestor in a descendant form, and these ancestors set out to safeguard the wellbeing of their children. Aborigine people value cooperation and often congregate to celebrate Corroboree and appreciate Dreamtime for what it did. Corroboree is a ceremony by which the Aborigines use to get in touch with Dreamtime. They deeply appreciate it and thus dance certain styles of dance that resemble their ancestors to show their appreciation. As the ceremony takes place, the atmosphere is further mystified with the sound of music.
As I stepped further into the native lands of the Aborigines of Northern Australia, the awkward sentiment slowly strengthened—they were ready to perform the Corroboree ceremony. Each step I took carried with it a more fraught emotion, and the change of landscape helped to intensify the feeling. Camera in hand, I was determined to record this piece of tradition.
Nightfall slowly began to make its way across the Australian islands, and the wind signaled this venture with ghostly howls. The first sight I saw was of a group of men, a dark group of men, painted with white colors, and dancing a dance that resembled the movements of a spider. I quickly turned on my camera and pushed the record button—this was fascinating. The other Aborigine people around me also danced traditional dances. They moved about themselves, seemingly in a disorderly fashion, and the dances too seemed unruly, but each person had a position, and each position was perfectly executed. Disorderly is a cliché adjective to describe this scene, and probably incorrect too, but that is what makes it unique. As my camera moves back and forth between the dances and the scenery, I sensed a mystical power, a powerful aura that resembled the sentiment I felt at the very beginning. The Aborigines were in touch with Dreamtime, we were in Dreamtime. The camera caught a variety of dances that I can only describe as unique, as the movements were very unusual—one resembled the kangaroo, and several others I cannot describe. They danced in a fashion that seemed disorganized, disorderly, and unruly, like there was no specific pattern, but, indeed, there was. To the trained eye, the patterns resembled ancestors of the Aborigines. Their legs hiked up, their thighs bowed, their arms stretched, sometimes curved, their heads always mobile, they danced to the music that accompanied the ceremony.
As the transient reality faded and I was able to contemplate the real world again, my ears picked up the sounds of the music played during the ceremony. Sounds of an instrument dubbed the Didgeridoo filled my ears—it was like no other sound I have heard, deeper than the sound of a flute, lighter than the sound of a horn—more like the sound of a shell on a gloomy day at the beach. It resonates in you. The Didgeridoo carried with it the sound of the Aborigine people, the spirit of a people so ancient that history barely has a record of it. Yelps, coughs, chants, and soft screams were audible concurrently with musical notes—the sound of rhythm sticks beating against the smooth animal hide, the ghostly hoot of the didgeridoo against the relaxed atmosphere, and the shaman’s chants against it all. The sound not only mystified the event, but it also mystified the people and all those who witnessed the ceremony. The drone that accompanied the music faded reality and ushered a new one, and the high-to-low melody gave an unforgettable sentiment of mystification. No words can wholly describe the audible melodic shape, except high-to-low, high-to-low…high-to-low. The group more or less was performing a call and response, a style typical of Aboriginal music. At times, the pulse of seemed vivid and lively, it seemed to exist, but other times, it seemed to elude reality. The experience enlightened me, gave me a bit more understanding of how different cultures interact with the spiritual world and how perspective plays a great part in how we live.
A few hours’ time lapsed, and the event ended. I was dumbstruck with enlightenment and content to have been lucky enough to witness the ceremony. The people, though I could not understand them, gestured for me to stay over night, but because of timing, I could not. As my footsteps left the epicenter of life as it began, the world came into existence again. The same sentiments that carried me into Dreamtime carried me back into reality, and I set out for mainland Australia.
The Aborigines of the northern islands of Australia bequeathed me with an experience I will never forget. They are a good group of people, a group of people whose traditions survived the hands of time and continue to thrive in an ever so connected world.

Text_KEN