Being a door: a conversation with Jeremy Donovan

By Katie Dutcher

New Thought News Service

Jeremy Donovan is an indigenous Australian who bears many titles: didgeridoo player, international speaker, traditional healer, youth worker. 

His business card, however, reads simply "Jeremy Donovan – Keeper of Wisdom." 

New Thought delegates at the Parliament this week were treated to a special visit by Donovan; following are excerpts of an interview I conducted with this inspired and inspiring man.

On his grandfather

I met my grandfather when I was 16, and he died when I was 22. I only had six years with him. And people ask me, "How could you have learned everything you learned from him (in such a short time)?" And I say, you know what, I learned more from my grandfather when he passed away than in the six years I sat with him. Because now I feel him, and I smell him, and I recognize him everywhere I go … 

No matter where I am, even if I'm sitting in the desert by myself, I'm not alone. Because this is a living place. The spirit of the people is still living. I want people to realize that we can still learn from our ancestors' hearts, even though they're not here to teach us. The spirit of them is still there. And you just have to go internally to find that spirit ...

Knowing the history and knowing what my grandfather was forced to live through (as an indigenous Australian) inspired me. (I realized) that I'm indigenous in this day and age. So I have the opportunity for a voice, where my grandfather didn't. If I've been given that opportunity, I need to use it to create change, so our next generation doesn't have to live through what my grandfather's generation lived through.

On his past

In the presentations that I have, I (always) talk about the troubles that I went through. I don't pretend that I wasn't involved in criminal activity at one time. I'll never hide that. I'll always let people know that … Because if I hadn't gone to jail, I wouldn't be the person that I am today. And it's because sitting in jail taught me to sit in darkness. If you've never seen light before, how do you know what it looks like? The only way to understand what light looks like is to sit in darkness ... My grandfather, being a traditional person, never talked about light, but he talked about the moon, because that's the brightest thing you can see in the midst of the night. He would say to me, "Son, if you can sit in this (dark) room and still find the moon, then you'll find yourself." ... (It became) about embracing the shadows. Embracing everything that was painful in my life, and really loving it. Learning to love everything that hurt you the most. And then being good with it, and accepting that that is not who you are. The pain you've experienced, it's not who you are. But it's part of your journey – your book. 

My grandfather used to say  "Son, you're a book. And if you don't like a chapter, you can't just tear it out. That's all you. That's always going to be there – otherwise there would be a broken binding."

On shoes and the land

I can't wear shoes. I don't like wearing shoes. When I have to do that, I'm uncomfortable. For me, these flip flops, that's the closest you're going to get me to shoes without me being uncomfortable, and even then I'll usually be carrying them ...I like to be able to feel the land I'm walking on – even if it is blanketed by concrete, it's still land. Beneath this, is land. And that's what I want to feel …

When I go to a new location, the first thing I do is often just walk around and touch everything that's living. So I'll touch the trees, or sit on the grass. Because that's stuff that is deeply connected to the earth, and that's what I'm connected to. 

I really know that I will never have ownership of land, that the land will always have ownership of me, and that I'm just part of it. In the great cycle of things, the physicalness of me will eventually end up back in the land. When I die, it's not like I'm just going to spontaneously combust. Eventually, there's going to come a time when I die, and then I will turn to ashes, and my ashes will go back into the land.

On God

You know, I wasn't good with the word "God," because it was too Biblical for me … So I asked my granddad, "What is God?" And my grandfather said, "I'll have to show you what God is." So one night, late at night, my grandfather woke me up and he said, "I'm going to take you and show you God." And so my grandfather walked me, in the midst of the darkness, to the top of a cliff. And we stood there, and the sky was littered with stars, and the wind was blowing, and there was so much noise from different things, and my grandfather said, "Look out there." And I looked. And he said, "That's it." And I said, "What?" And he said, "This is God. What is God? God is everything. That's (Yurra Binna) – Our Creator"…

Our traditional wisdom, it's so true to everything that's ever been argued about in biblical religions, or even in the New Thought religions. Yesterday, I was listening to the "founders of New Thought" speak, and I thought ... "Wait a minute! We're the founders of New Thought! Our paintings are 40,000 years old!"

On his identity and message

What I really want to do is change the perceptions of people (about indigenous Australians). I don't have to look like what the stereotype says I'm supposed to look like to hold that (indigenous) wisdom, that message. I don't have to wear a little loincloth and be covered in paint to still be aboriginal. When I wear a Ralph Lauren shirt, and a bright pink one at that, it doesn't make me not aboriginal … The clothes, the paint, that's not what creates my identity. It's what's within, and the words that I have to share. That's when you'll really get to understand my identity – when you feel my words or you listen to the words that I have to share …

For me, (my work) is about getting people to see indigenous culture in a way that's not fairy-tale-based or mystical-based, just as a real culture. It's living – it's always going to be living. Even if we come to the sad place where there's not a single indigenous person left in this country, it's still here and it's still living. And that's what I want people to see … 

When people hear me speak, they hear an indigenous man speak about indigenous life and how he resurrected his life with culture. And they see someone that's full of pride. Nothing makes me more proud than performing or speaking or sharing my story with people. Because I know where I've come from. There's never a moment in my life when I paint my body, or stand up onstage in regular clothes and speak, that I'm not drawn to tears …

My grandfather used to say, "Son, you are a door. It is up to the people to choose to walk through that door." We have no idea the effect we have on people. All we can do is just become that door. You can't force people to walk through your door … not everyone is going to want to come through it. But you can be that door. And if people want to knock on it and come through, they're the ones that you can touch. You just have to be present and allow people the opportunity – to just ensure that the door is there.