Comments following a Planning Meeting
Julian Robertson, Tasmania Regional Meeting, 12/10/11
At the heart of the Silver Wattle Quaker Centre is the rhythm of a spiritual community. It can be seen in the morning Meeting for Worship, the evening epilogue, even the choice of books in the library. It can be sensed in the commitment to providing a range of courses, retreats and activities that will be of interest to Quakers and other seekers of all ages. It is hoped that all the experience of Silver Wattle will have met the needs and perhaps opened new discoveries of all who visit there. For some it will be about having fun activities, (anyone for land yachts!?). For others it will be the experience of a spiritual community, of a commitment to living the Quaker Testimonies and the wisdom of the Advices and Queries. And this happens in a delightful rural environment, with plenty of physical work to do in the gardens, good books to read, opportunities for communal worship and personal reflection, and most of all, good company. For those who attend courses it is hoped they will be challenging and fulfilling, whether it be learning new stitches, gaining activist skills or moving to a deeper understanding of the Gospel of St John. Some have described their visit as a ‘transformative experience’
The rural setting of Silver Wattle calls you outside to walk, to run, to dig in the gardens and to explore the surroundings. My walks included a climb up to the cross on the hill with Elizabeth Field. We looked out across the vast flat valley of Lake George, to the hills behind festooned with wind generators. Another time I walked to the edge of the property and one morning I ran out across the lake bed. The area is a place to share with birds, kangaroos and people of goodwill.
I returned to Hobart full of hope and optimism for the future for Silver Wattle. I’m not sure how long it will be before I return, but I look forward to it.
Letter from Rowe Morrow (NSW Regional Meeting)
24th day fifth month, 2010
Dear Friends:
I have just returned after several days at Silver Wattle and I understand that it is the subject for a special meeting for worship at Wahroonga on Saturday. I regret I cannot be there with you for this prayerful time.
I wish to offer my thoughts about the land and its uses. They may be slightly different from yours and I hope that you will accept that.
1. Silver Wattle is a very lovely piece of land in a special place on the edge of Lake George. It is at the end of a road and adjoins a state forest. From the hill above the homestead, the Lake spreads out in front with kangaroos grazing quietly as they have for perhaps tens of thousand years. The quiet, in terms of no or minimal human noise, is a rare experience; the lack of human movement, notices and possessions makes it visually tranquil and the air is very pure.
It is quite badly degraded and seems to be at a peak of potential recovery or collapse. All the animals seen around the homestead are on an island and the lovely song and constant chatter is really a constant struggle for an eco-niche in which to bring up young. There is almost no understorey and the hill behind is eroding and partially degraded. There are signs of life with a few small acacias carrying out their pioneer role to help the later arrivals. Friends have excluded the goats and now the Earth could reclaim itself with some help from its F/friends.
2. Many Friends have little opportunity to experience this type of ecosystem and it also needs to exist in its own right. Nature has rights which are usually destroyed by human activities. Streams could flow again; understorey and its associated wildlife flourish; animals find sanctuary. This is a spiritual task and revolutionary witness when the Earth is close to breakdown and biodiversity expected to collapse by 30+% in the next few decades.
If Quakers do not secure this rare piece of land then it could possibly end up in the hands of farmers or speculators, developers and there again goes a precious piece of creation sold to the highest bidder.
There is the possibility to use former agricultural field as a Quaker forest where any of us could either plant, or pay for, a special inalienable forest as part of our care for the Earth’s future and for the children and adults. And to replace some of the excess carbon we all use.
I see this small piece of Earth as one with which we could be connected, love it and be intimate with its moods and seasons. We could have a relationship with it. It is a witness for a future.
3. As a business, then I am not sure, but one year’s activities should tell us whether there is the need for a smallish retreat centre in a special environment. I believe there probably is once people become aware. There are some groups who already find it very inspiring. It is fairly new and comfortable scale.
4. As a Quaker retreat and study centre I do not know because I do not know the future, nor the future of us as Quakers. Sometimes when things are drifting down hill with smaller and older meetings, a bright and bold new adventure is what is needed. T.S. Eliot said “Do not go gentle into the xxxx night?” We could witness that we believe, we can offer more to each other and to others outside Quakers with such a centre.
I would like my grandchildren and all others to be glad for the land and I would like to leave land so they will say to me “thank you for handing on our heritage in such lovely health.”
This is why I would like Quakers to buy this land – a piece of radical witness.
My Week as an Elder
Kerstin Reimers (Tasmania Regional Meeting) 25/11/09
I got up early, stepping through the door onto the verandah and made my way to the path between the orchards of blossoming trees. The air was fresh, the grass moist and mists veiled the distances. A magpie warbled again and again and its song lifted my heart. I felt touched by Joy and tenderly moved, almost to tears.
These tears surfaced several times more that day, my second at the Australian Quaker Centre, and often throughout my week as resident elder. I was profoundly moved not just by beauty in nature and the voices of the land, the wonder and power of passing storms and the night sky, the warmth and peace of sunshine in the garden, but by all of that—all that joy, beauty, wonder, power, warmth, peace, generosity and loving spirit—in the human companionship, fellowship in seeking and connection of heart in our community.
It was a privilege to witness the growth and deepening of this sense of community over the week and to feel our worship expand. This was what my role was about, but I wasn’t the only one ‘holding the centre’. What we created together came from all of us and any setbacks and challenges we faced during ‘Week 3’ were transformed in this Light and taken over by Love. Pitching in and supporting one another brought us closer and in the end it was very hard to part.
Being an elder was new to me and it was an extraordinary experience: intense and constant, but also exhilarating and affirming. Somehow I found myself able to be a vessel, to listen and be, to notice and respond, beyond all my expectations. Somehow I was given strength and perspective to rise above my own doubts, confusions, awkwardness and shortcomings and to hold the many layers and facets of what was going on. I was both humbled and awed by this amazing Spirit-led gift—I learnt so much about myself.
I feel so incredibly lucky to have been there at such an adventurous time, sharing the journey with a small group: a wonderful mix of Friends, old and new, including two Young Friends from the evangelical tradition, who taught me so much about discernment and a living, daily relationship with God. I loved being able to share a moment or more with everyone each day, to hear their stories and questioning and goals. Again I felt both humbled and awed at the discovery of all that we held in common and am blessed with countless precious memories.
My soul still smiles at the way one Young Friend gently nudged me aside and passed me her tea towel when I became absorbed in a flock of double-bar finches outside the kitchen window.
Flora at Silver Wattle
Dawn Joyce, Queensland Regional Meeting, 19/11/09
The climate at Silver Wattle via Bungendore is less extreme than that experienced at Canberra. As a sojourner during the week of the Quaker tapestry gathering I had been concerned about heatwave conditions, but was pleasantly surprised to discover summery days and cool nights in mid November.
The surface of Lake George is dry and deeply cracked at some points. It is covered by low growing plants with thick leaved succulents predominating. However the deep alluvial layers hold a massive body of water.
A copy of a flora survey carried out in 2006 is available to visitors along with a number of helpful books. What would be useful for the general observer is a field guide with scanned or photocopied specimens and accompanying notes. This type of teaching tool has been used most successfully by MIPC (Moreton Island Protection Committee) and I would be more than happy to assist with this work.
The iconic silver wattle grows by the fence on the lake side of the roadway, but it is not as common as black wattle. The red ironbark was flowering and its gorgeous blossoms graced the meeting for worship table, alternating with pink roses from the garden. Fifty eight bird species have been recorded here September to November 2009. Records taken over 25 years include 135 species, 40 of which are waders or waterfowl.
There are some ancient apple box trees by the lake shore. A huge specimen growing by the old shearing shed has a GBH (girth at breast height) of approximately 8.4 m. I would surmise its age to be around 500 years.
On the hill to the west the grass trees are flowering profusely. Even after the early dew has gone, noisy friar birds continue to feed late into the morning. From the top there is a panoramic view of the 150 square kilometre lake bed and on the eastern hills 63 new wind turbines gracefully usher in new ways of living and being.
Silver Wattle is a place of peace, its quietude infused with birdsong. The buildings are well planned but unpretentious. Living in community among likeminded people gives us an opportunity to be energised and strengthened so we can return to our other tasks. I look forward to future opportunities for refreshment and renewal.
A Private Retreet at Silver Wattle
Jerome Fink, 28 September 2011
By August of this year I was completely worn out by 12 years of raising children and by the death of my mother earlier in the year. I knew that Silver Wattle offered a retreat space and deliberately arranged a time to be there for a five day retreat when there were no formal programs. I had high expectations of complete rest and restoration and these expectations were met.
I quickly settled into the Centre’s daily cycle of breakfast, Meeting for Worship, lunch, dinner and epilogue. Within this structure I made my own rhythm of reflection, reading, walking, gardening and sleeping.
In keeping with Quaker values, Silver Wattle is comfortable but not luxurious. It’s a wonderful place to reconnect and to just “be”. It’s a quiet place with a homely garden, and uninterrupted views to the bed of Lake George and the hills and wind farm beyond. I used these views in meditation when I focused on trees in the distance.
Helen Bayes, the Director, provided wise spiritual direction. Working in the garden for an hour or two each day provided a physical balance to reflection and reading. The comfortable beds made for very good sleep. The wholesome food restored my body. The cheeky fox, the wallabies, the soaring raptors and other birds were constant entertainment.
There’s plenty more to say, but instead I strongly encourage you to visit Silver Wattle and see for yourself.
Time at Silver Wattle Quaker Centre
Malcolm Whyte (Canberra Regional Meeting) 12/9/11
It was the title of the course that attracted me, Listening into Being, but I also wanted to experience staying in Silver Wattle and once again, after many years, participating in a week-long workshop/retreat. Also I aimed to do a bit of work on myself, either privately, internally, or outwardly in discussion with others, on the topic which really is important for all of us, namely: What should I be doing with myself, for greatest all round satisfaction, in the years ahead? Twilight years in my case, according to a friend!
Well, I will not reveal any answers to my question, in case anyone then judges my performance, but I will say that the whole week was a great success from my point of view. The course was good and useful, the dozen participants were thoughtful contributors and good company, the food was great (including some from the property), the accommodation better than adequate, and it was delightful to be out in the countryside with its walks, its birds, its kangaroos and four home chooks. During the week we celebrated the Centre’s first birthday since the lease was signed.
I simply pen this note to give a big tick to Silver Wattle, which as you surely know is a bit north of Bungendore, and to encourage you to support it and experience it, whether for a short or lengthy time, for a course, or simply for a quiet time-out.
Words into silence
Virginia Jealous, West Australia Regional Meeting.
(This article was published in The Weekend Australian, 4-5 December, in The Incidental Tourist.)
There’s water in Lake George, just northeast of Canberra. Locals say it’s been ten years since the last time there was, so we’re lucky to see it. Wide shallows glitter in the middle distance and the wind farm slices the horizon behind. This is landscape that lends itself to imagination; recently a herd of sculptured zebra was installed on the (then drier) lake bed, to the delight and astonishment of drivers passing by on the Federal Highway. Creativity has drawn me here too, but of a different sort. I’m staying on the southwest shore of the lake at the Australian Quaker Centre, where a group of writers – Quaker and not – have gathered for a week’s writing workshop.
Those of us unfamiliar with the ways of a Quaker community find a steadying rhythm to each day. A hand-bell calls us to meals, to course activities, and to the silent gatherings that mark the start and end of the day. Household chores are shared by residents and visitors alike, in an informal division of labour that somehow works. The garden gets tended, the cook gets help in the kitchen, cleaning gets done. Good humour pervades the mundane, with a self-deprecating nod to Zen. ‘Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry
water.’
Workshop sessions are shaped around this routine. For a couple of hours in the morning and late afternoon we work together, loosening-up with writing exercises, looking at form and flow, sharing raw pieces of writing, and finding inspiration in the books of other, more accomplished writers. In between there is less structure. There’s time enough for individual mentoring, and headspace enough to move long-planned words forwards from the back burner.
We follow our own inner and outer paths, walking the lakeshore and paddocks or climbing the scarp behind. The weather is crazily changeable. Sunshine shifts to sheeting rain in moments, and the light is always extraordinary. At the top of the ridge there’s an unexpected treat of remnant bush and grass trees in flower, loud with birdsong. Closer to home, a mob of eastern grey
kangaroos lives behind the water tanks. Among them is a matte-white roo with her
perfectly grey joey. She seems as surreal and wonderful as the zebra.
Mid-week there is a day of active, intentional silence. Writing and work goes on. Except for an occasional murmured directive from the cook, we prepare meals, eat and clear up without speaking. In an odd way this demystifies the silence, turns it into a living thing. People go walking or gardening together in unspoken solidarity; some go bush alone. Others nod and smile in passing, or touch hands as they pass dishes at table. Body language becomes more important.
This seems a good way to be, relying and trusting each other’s actions not words -
surprising, too, for a writer whose job is words. It feels quite different from being in
self-imposed or unsought silence. And if talk is needed to calm and clear a busy mind – as it sometimes is – a resident is available for one-to-one conversation.
Quakers call each other Friends, and call visitors friends. It’s an inclusive term, and whether it’s spelled with a capital letter or not it makes us feel at home. This community welcomes all serious seekers – whatever
they’re looking for – and after a week it seems that everyone in our group has found something special here.
