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And the Grandmothers sang to me, "If Love is a River, Listen".

"A society grows great when old men plant trees, the shade of which they will never sit in" (from Afterlife)

Like a Banksia Man with many mouths, we are full of discordant and opposing voices, but perhaps there is a way of finding harmony.

The warm, bright, cycling sun. The strong, steadfast mountain. The deep, mysterious shadow. Dancing eternally with each other.

Rather than a unified, coherent individual, humans are more like a ship steered by a whole crew of frequently opposing forces.