Live. or Live. How do you say it? It depends. When your crowd fund goes “live”, how does it feel? I feel relieved. It’s been two and a half years of film-making. Five months of screening, feedback, re-edits and, quite frankily, stress. It’s time to let this baby go.
Will you help her stand alone?
How do we listen more deeply to one another? How do we do this in community even when our opinions conflict, in order to agree on a path of action that moves a community forward?
In this powerfully reflective documentary film, director Helen Iles visits with seven “intentional communities” across Australia. Through a series of interviews and other footage, the film gently draws out common themes between diverse approaches to create a more authentic sense of community than what our contemporary, increasingly urban consumerist-driven society often offers.
Despite differences, what underpins all seven of these communities, in their individual visions, is a connection to and concern for the natural environment they have built their communities within. Iles draws this theme out through capturing evocative glimpses of surrounding nature, their permaculture sites, and documenting some of the history of environmental activism, initiated by of some of these intentional communities in their formative years. The film’s attention to history makes it clear – intentional communities are not merely some ephemeral eco-trend – some of the featured communities have been going for 40 years.
The film’s name, dadirri is an indigenous word from the area of the Daly River, Northern Territory. Meaning “deep listening”, it entails a way of respectful listening, not just with our ears, but with our eyes and our heart. Developing dadirri, like the Buddhist practice of mindfulness, allows one to tune into oneself, to other people and to environment. Although these communities are not necessarily adopting dadirri with deliberate awareness of it as an indigenous practice, what the film highlights is that any community that desires to care for the surrounding natural environment, and to develop more inclusive decision-making for its members, inevitably embodies this principle.
As one of the interviewees reminds us, the indigenous people of Australia did not consider this land a “wilderness” – it was their home. Like any home, it required care and management. To do this, as indigenous elder Aunty Doris Paton says, the concept of dadirri was essential. In knowing “when the birds come, the flowers blossom, the rivers flow”, tribes could not only serve the land, but also let the land serve them, making better decisions for their communities about when to hunt, where to set up camp, when to move on.
These intentional communities all shared this similar commitment to the environment and to each other which I found extremely moving – often with humility and humour. They do not say it is easy. They do, unfailingly, say it is worthwhile.
Dadirri presents many ideas and insights that are pertinent to any community-building initiative – be that in schools, neighbourhoods, or organizations, as well as showing a way of living that is an antidote to many of the ills of contemporary life. Managing to avoid the obviously didactic, Dadirri is instead thoughtful, gently provocative and insightful.
As the viewer journeys with this film, stepping into a number of homes and communal spaces, the theme of listening gradually emerges as a compelling motif. The more the viewer listens, the more one hears about the importance of active and authentic listening. Deep listening: to each other and to the land.
This article first appeared in Eigana, The Magazine of the Victorian Association of Environmental Education. April 2015
~ Melissa Coffey
A freelance writer and published author, Melissa writes across several genres around themes of feminism, sexuality, wellbeing and spirituality. She writes online for Stress Panda. Her work has featured in literary journal Etchings (“Visual Eyes” #12), and her short story Motherlines was published in Australian anthology Stew and Sinkers (2013).
Find her on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/MelissaCoffey.CuriousSeeds.Comms
Today is a difficult day. When I wake, a heaviness sits in my belly. I take my heaviness up onto the roof, where the sun waits. My morning yoga is helped by the warmth and I mean it when I make the salute. Still, the heaviness persists.
I have got to a point in the new Living in the Future film where I know where I’m going. This is great and it took some time, some drama, some hair-tearing to get to this place. But still we have no funding.
In Wales, I have a good idea what funding is out there. I have connections. My work is known. In Australia, I have had to start again. It is hard.
Then, as I sip my morning tea and ponder over emails, my inbox tells me that I have a new message. Ping! A donation of £100 has arrived from Germany. From Annette and Sebastian.
How can I describe how this feels?
Like someone just drew me a hot bath with bubbles…like the scent of jasmine after a long winter…like a travel pillow on a long flight…I could go on. Basically, I feel supported.
It is not a wish for an easy life which makes a person choose an art form as a way to make a living, and most of us supplement with something else. Only last night, someone told me that his wife, a novelist, is a copywriter for Woolworths by day…
Each comment on the blog or website; each DVD or download purchased; each screening licence; each time someone puts a coin in a hat, hits the donation button or sponsors an episode – it gives me a lift.
So thank you. And keep it coming. I promise you that I’m working hard to bring you the stories about people building sustainable lives – for us all. They, too appreciate your contributions. And thank-you to Annette and Sebastian, for your generous gift.