AR36 Proposal. 13 November 2006
Copyright © 2006 by Kevin Sharpe. All rights reserved.
In process.

10 Shirelake Close
Oxford, OX1 1SN
United Kingdom
kevin.sharpe@tui.edu
www.ksharpe.com

13 November 2006

Dear

Please find enclosed the proposal for my book, Dreaming Time, Living Passions, which you requested in response to a query from me.

I enclose a SAE and look forward to your response (there is no need to return the proposal, curriculum vitae, and sample chapter). However, because I travel a lot, email is the quickest way to reach me.

If you wish, I can send the full manuscript for your perusal.

Thank you for your attention.

 

Kevin Sharpe

Encl.    Proposal
            Chapters 4 and 5
            Curriculum Vitae
            SAE


 

 

Proposal for

 

dreaming time, Living Passion

 

by

 

Kevin Sharpe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About 44,000 words

 

10 Shirelake Close
Oxford, OX1 1SN
United Kingdom

UK Phone +44-(0)1865-249-906
Fax and VoiceMail +1-201-586-0340
ksharpe@ksharpe.com


Dreaming Time, Living Passion

Overview

A hundred feet above a lake no sunlight has ever seen, I squeeze from a slit in the rocks so narrow that my head scrapes against the ceiling and, if I breathe too hard, I’m trapped. With lamp in hand in front of me, I come out to the ledge above the lake: a thin, narrow strip of limestone rock. I lie on my back and shine the light above me. Thousands of finger markings rain down from the rock, mixing with lines engraved with stone tools. I am not the first person here. But it has been many thousands of years since the people who made these marks came deep into Koonalda Cave, climbing in darkness through the same stone landscape, to leave their marks on these walls.

Why did they come and why did they mark?

Dreaming Time, Living Passion explores the enigma of these line markings and the mystery of why people, since the dawn of prehistory, have looked to mythology to make meaning. For 30 years, I have studied prehistoric line markings in caves in Australia and France. For 30 years, I have felt inspired by lines I saw in a cave, days from civilization in the Australian outback.

Dreaming Time, Living Passion is the story of my own coming to knowing. It is the story of the Nullarbor Plain in Australia, a place so vast and desolate, that its greatest jewels must lay hidden underground in caves because the harsh climate above crawls with snakes and spiders, hundred and thirty degree heat, and no water. Alexander Gallus, the excavator of Koonalda, invited me a 22-year-old student to accompany him on an archaeological expedition. My desire for change, my love for the land, and my connection to the people who left behind their marks on the walls and fallen stones of Koonalda weave through the story of the cave, its explorers and dreamers, its exploiters and abusers.

This eleven chapter book follows the tradition of the work of Bruce Chatwin in The Songlines and Robyn Davidson’s Tracks, offering readers both a vision of the wild places and people of Australia, and my own story of my beginning to come to understand, to know, to question. I have structured each chapter around the images of dreams, as dreaming is central both to the human relationship with the Nullarbor and to all human relationships with what motivates them.

I come to this work from a lifetime of experience teaching and writing on the subjects of prehistoric rock art, science, and spirituality. My academic explorations began in Mathematics and then bridged to Religious Studies. I hold Ph.D.s in both and currently supervise doctoral students at the Union Institute & University. In the past, I have published five books involving my interdisciplinary interests: Science of God: Truth in the Age of Science (Rowman & Littlefield, 2006), Has Science Displaced the Soul? Debating Love and Happiness (Rowman & Littlefield, 2005), Sleuthing the Divine: The Nexus of Science and Spirit (Fortress Press, 2000), David Bohm’s World: New Science and New Religion (Bucknell University Press, 1993) and From Science to an Adequate Mythology (Interface Press, 1984). Further, for over a decade I was the editor and publisher of Science & Spirit, a magazine that I founded. 

Deep in the caves of Australia lies our history. A history to which we can connect. A history from which we have much to learn. It offers a vehicle through which we can see how the past can speak to the future and help us find our way in the world. It still inspires and motivates me to try to understand.

In more detail:

Author Biography

I was born in 1950 in New Zealand, lived in the United States for 16 years, and now reside in Oxford, England. I am a member of Harris Manchester College, Oxford University, and a full-time Core Professor in the Graduate College of Union Institute & University, Cincinnati a non-traditional learning-at-a-distance program where I supervise and advise doctoral students. My academic background includes two doctorates, one in mathematics (from La Trobe University, Melbourne, Australia) and one in religious studies (from Boston University). I studied archaeology under Professor Hallam Movius, Jr. at Harvard University and worked in Australia under Dr. Alexander Gallus investigating Keilor (near Melbourne) and Koonalda Cave. I later returned to Koonalda Cave as a leader of a National Geographic funded expedition to look further at the markings, and later still examined several sites of markings in the Mount Gambier region of Australia with Robert Bednarik. My current archaeological work focuses on Rouffignac and Gargas Caves, France.

One of my interests lies in the relationship between spiritual thought and science. I have published five books (Science of God: Truth in the Age of Science, Has Science Displaced the Soul? Debating Love and Happiness, Sleuthing the Divine: The Nexus of Science and Spirit; David Bohm’s World: New Science and New Religion; and From Science to an Adequate Mythology), have edited several more, and written many articles and academic papers. Two books will shortly appear: Love and Happiness: Spiritual Thought in the Light of Behavioral Genetics and Neurochemistry and Science of God. Other books in development await publication: Happier and Spiritual: Theology from the Behavioral Sciences, Natural Morality: Reaping Our Innate Rewards, Our Ancestors Touch Us: The Writing of Early Humans, and Meaning: Finding Our Place in the World. I founded, published, and, for over a decade, edited the magazine, Science & Spirit, as well as its predecessor and companion website ‘Science & Spirit Resources.’ Over a decade ago, I established the Fortress Press book series, ‘Theology and the Sciences,’ which I continue to edit.

I am an expert on prehistoric line markings, especially those found in caves. At present, my research activity in this area focuses on the 12,000-27,000 year-old finger markings in Rouffignac and Gargas caves, France. This work delves into the minds and written expressions of our Paleolithic ancestors. I want to know how they thought and what they believed.

My web site www.ksharpe.com provides more details. I also enclose a full curriculum vitae.

For us to change our world for the better requires, among other attributes, passion. Passion requires inspiration. Koonalda Cave and the Nullarbor Plain inspired and still inspire me in part to understand and in part to a feeling of humility before the unknown of our world and our past.

Dreaming Time, Living Passion

Table of Contents

Plates  

Figures

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1: The Need to Dream

Chapter 2: Readying to Dream

Chapter 3: Looking for Dreams

Chapter 4: Nightmare

Chapter 5: Wisdom Dreams

Chapter 6: Wild Dreams

Chapter 7: Place Dreams

Chapter 8: Belonging Dreams

Chapter 9: New Dreams

Chapter 10: Living Dreams

Bibliography of Sources

Notes

Dreaming Time, Living Passion

Chapter Descriptions

Chapter 1: The Need to Dream

A 1493 bull of Pope Alexander VI split the globe between the Spanish and Portuguese with a zone between the 129°E and 132°E lines to keep them apart. This neutral space became known as ‘No Man’s Land.’ It took 300 years before European feet set foot on its southern reach in Australia and renamed it the Nullarbor Plain. It took another century before Europeans, frustrated in their dreams, found that the Nullarbor really is no man’s land.

Chapter 1 introduces Koonalda Cave and the Nullarbor Plain, and relates the beginning of my involvement with the cave and its prehistoric line markings. i was ready for a dream.

Chapter 2: Readying to Dream

The Nullarbor feels deadly. An earnest, desolate, and apparently endless plain, its white limestone crops up everywhere and in every direction like dried bones. Did God forsake it?

I drove into the Nullarbor on two occasions to look at Koonalda. Chapter 2 describes the plain and its human inhabitants through the eyes of its explorers and travelers, including myself.

Chapter 3: Looking for Dreams

Various people over the last century have entered and explored the caves that dot the Nullarbor.  Before them, local Aborigines knew of the caves but refused to enter them. Chapter 3 describes the experiences of the explorers at the same time it describes the interior of Koonalda Cave and my impressions of it.

The cave explorers looked, for the elusive pot of gold, for meaning in life, or for the necessities of life in the face of such harsh realities as illness, lack of food or drink, need for shelter, and interpersonal conflict. Do the stories of Aborigines and the Nullarbor caves accurately portray Aboriginal beliefs or the writers’ biases (‘I am a White man, intrepid and fearless. You are a Black boy, backward and cowardly.’)? I cannot tell. Maybe, for some reason, the Aborigines were trying to stop the Whites from entering the caves. The indigenous people probably had no need to search the Nullarbor because they had lived there for eons. The motivation of the Whites, on the other hand, moved over the decades further and further from meeting pressing needs toward exploration that satisfies curiosity.

Like the latter White visitors, I too felt excited. The Nullarbor’s emptiness offered me the chance to search for jewels of meaning beneath its hard clay and rock.

Chapter 4: Nightmare

‘Sooner than we think, writes Daisy Bates in 1921, the last dark dwellers of these regions will vanish from the country which was theirs and their peoples’ from time immemorial, but in which they are now aliens, unwanted by the strange [White people] who have taken possession of their ancestral waters and bring them but death and disease as payment.’ Chapter 4 introduces the local Aborigines, the Mirning, their customs and ways of life, and their annihilation.

The young Mirning tribespeople left their traditional areas and gave up their skills and laws in favor of the European way. They found it hard to adapt to it. The old customs bonded the people together, gave them ancestral beliefs, the feeling of belonging, and the self-confidence necessary to learn a new life. White males freely abused Aboriginal girls and women, so their moral code eroded away with their traditional way of life. In 1912, only the old people remained alive.

S. A. White calls the local people of Ooldea, ‘wonderful.’ He wrote in 1918 as they died off. Another person speaks of their soon being ‘as rare as the Dodo.’ ‘Aborigines, when properly handled, can be of great help,’ another writes of those Aborigines who were station hands at Mundrabilla Station on the Nullarbor. ‘They are naturally slow, but patient; and the lowness of their wage-rate makes them a great saving for certain work.’ This dominant attitude decided their fate.

Chapter 5: Wisdom Dreams

Tom Brown, an early surveyor of the Nullarbor, found the Aboriginal people reluctant to set foot on the plain. Women would cry and men look glum when accompanied to it. They preferred to skirt the Nullarbor rather than cross it and shorten their walk by many days. To chase kangaroos or emus, they might venture beyond the edge some 20 miles [30 kilometers] – but return to their camps in the coastal belt when evening fell. They knew little about the plain itself. James Jones, hoping to find water suitable for stock, tried to obtain the services of an Aborigine as a guide and tracker. The locals were loath to face the plain, much to Jones’ surprise, though elsewhere they would willingly accompany most parties and walk a great distance alone to deliver a letter.

They felt afraid, our interpreters tell us, because they believed that a monstrous and hideous serpent, exceedingly destructive, occupies the country beyond the coastal belt. As big around as a house and of untold length, the magic snake Ganba makes his home under the plain.

Chapter 5 relates the known myths and stories of the Mirning and how they made sense of the plain in all its extremes.

Chapter 6: Wild Dreams

Pieter Nuyts commanded the ship Gulde Zee Paert in which he voyaged further than anyone in his day. The ship blew off course in 1627 and accidentally followed the coastline of the Great Australian Bight, probably as far as the Nuyts Archipelago. The Dutchman had found the Great South Land. He planned a colony here. Writings to tempt prospective Dutch settlers extolled Nuyts Land: ‘one of the best countries in the world, the land abounds in milk and honey and in all those things capable of gratifying the senses and enabling one to live delightfully; a land full of festivity and good cheer, which is fertile and without much labor produces easily and cheaply all that is necessary for life.’

John Eyre in 1841 looked for grazing land and a route for overlanding stock on his epochal journey. His 1,600 kilometers led him from Fowler’s Bay to Albany and he concluded that the land was useless. He nearly died from thirst. Sand hills held the little water that he found, but keeping to the sandy areas provided its own problems. Sand, he writes, ‘floated on the surface of the water, penetrating into our clothes, hair, eyes, and ears, buried our provisions when we lay down at nights, it was a perpetual and never-ceasing torment, and as if to increase our miseries we were again afflicted with swarms of large horse-flies, which bit us dreadfully.’ He counted 23 of the bloodsuckers at one time on a 50 centimeter-square patch of his trousers.

Yet, W. H. Tietkins in 1887 said that agriculturalists reported the Nullarbor ‘eminently suitable in every way for pastoraling, and probably also for the growing of cereals.’

Aboriginal legend describes the plain as once wonderful and beautiful, a land of perfection. Europeans fixated on the Nullarbor as a pastoralists’ haven: crops would grow in abundance and sheep and cattle would graze. Only a myth could empower the Whites to believe this and try forcing it into a reality. Only a myth could empower them to believe that sufficient quantities of suitable water wait in this wilderness to transform it into fine pasture.

Chapter 6 explores Europeans’ beliefs about the Nullarbor and their emotional reactions to it.

Chapter 7: Place Dreams

One meaning for ‘dream,’ the dictionary says, is ‘fond hope or aspiration.’ The word ‘aspire’ comes from the Latin ad + spirare, ‘to breathe.’ The dictionary adds, ‘see SPIRIT.’ To dream a landscape is to aspire for it, a spiritual activity.

My home town is New Plymouth, about halfway up the west coast of the North Island of New Zealand. I was born there and lived in the same house at 29 Rimu Street until I went to university. New Plymouth is on the northern coast of a roundish peninsula that juts into the Tasman Sea and in the middle of which rises a volcano now called Mount Taranaki (we used to call it Mount Egmont, but that’s another story). The mountain is 8,240 feet high [2518 meters] and is dormant (we were taught that it was extinct, but that too is another story), a near perfect cone like Mount Fuji in Japan. You can see it from just about every spot in New Plymouth. It dominates in a friendly way. He’s a friend, a constant companion. I carry him with me with me in my mind wherever I go. I see him looking over me over the head of Ngaio Street when I walk down to the shops in my suburb of Fitzroy; behind me when I go toward Fitzroy and in front of me, beckoning, when I go home. I miss him now that I’m grown and moved away. But he’s still there, beckoning me, holding me secure, guarding and guiding me.

As with Taranaki, I love the land of the Nullarbor. We can draw on the wisdom of the past – indigenous and imported – and reject its errors. We ought also to look at the land we inhabit. What wisdom does it impart? Further, what do its fauna and flora teach us? What lessons can we draw from its geography, geology, and climate?

This chapter asks such questions of the Nullarbor and of myself. It also includes a description of Koonalda Cave, its chambers, cliffs, and lakes.

Chapter 8: Belonging Dreams

Sandor Gallus and bands of helpers journeyed to Koonalda Cave over many summers to excavate. His last visit to the cave was with me and he spent most of his time checking his notes and diagrams. He draws cultural parallels between the remains of mining, workshop, and settlement activities that he unearthed there and what he saw in Europe – impressive enough for highly reputable international journals to publish them – and controversial. Dr. Gallus was, and remains, suspect in the eyes of the Australian archaeological establishment. It ignores him if possible. He never belonged to their club.

Chapter 8 describes the results of archaeological excavations in the cave and the controversy surrounding them. It asks about the psychological-social phenomenon of ingroup-outgroup, and how this relates to the scholarly community around Koonalda. It also describes some of my experiences of exclusion including reactions to my 1970s work on Koonalda and projects to enlarge on it and how they became resolved, including reflections on my upbringing and my father’s struggles with his desire for social acceptance in the aggressive male culture of post-war New Zealand.

Chapter 9: New Dreams

At the back of the Upper Chamber of the cave, covering large expanses of the soft, chalky, limestone walls scrawl masses of marks, stroked into the receptive medium by human fingertips, or scratched with sticks or stones. The lines comprise one of the oldest examples of Aboriginal expression in Australia. The stroking begins from high up with outstretched fingers that draw together as the hands descend. The effect, covering the buttress-like undulations of the cave walls and extending overhead out of present reach, resembles the fan vaulting of the decorated Gothic style. Why did people create these lines in the back of the Upper Chamber of Koonalda Cave, far from daylight and the surface of the Nullarbor Plain? What did they intend by the lines?

Perhaps important members of the tribe climbed into the cave, lit their mallee root torches as the entrance light faded, and descended the slope. They walked past mining trenches and stele and up to the Upper Chamber. With them, they brought animal parts to place ritually in a particular spot. They sat in a close group inside a stone circle, and chanted, recited myth stories, and added their special marks to those already on the boulders and walls, perhaps as a type of written representation of the stories. The cave and those who had entered before them strengthened them through the ritual.

The line making may, like the flint mining, connect with ritual and religion. On the other hand, we may never know the meaning behind the lines. It may only reflect the pleasure the tactile sensation brought the line makers.

In Chapter 9, I thereby seek to answer the question of why by drawing on Aboriginal artistic practices, European prehistoric art. I also introduce a new method that my researh partner and I have devised to look at the lines themselves and how they were created. This allows us to say how many people were responsible, their age groups, and their gender.

Chapter 10: Living Dreams

The local farmers, the Gurneys, invited us to tea, Nullarbor outback style, one evening toward the end of my second stay at Koonalda.

I spruced myself up with a plunge into the tank of cave water that a windmill pumped up. I hoped the sheep parasite in the water wouldn’t infest me. The six of us piled into our Land Cruiser and station wagon and took off to the homestead and real food.

We entered the Koonalda farmhouse by a welcoming cockatoo, filed down a dark hallway, and entered the large kitchen. The Gurney’s daughter stood there, scooping fresh milk out of a basin into smaller containers. A wooden table dominated the room. A cast-iron cauldron sat on a wood stove. We continued from the kitchen and sat down in the dining room. Its ceiling drooped, suggesting that it might fall at any moment. The old furniture belied the warmth of the house and its people, one large extended family. Photographs covered every conceivable family event.

Mrs. Gurney entered, her face welcoming. She was short and plump, wore a fashionable dress, and looked young for her forties.

Nearly two hours later, Cyril Gurney arrived. This signaled the serving of tea. In came Mrs. Gurney on the first of many trips, with plate upon plate of cakes, large hot pies, and little hot pasties with ketchup, all of which stayed on the table untouched for half-an-hour. She brought in a teapot looking like a saucepan with a spout on it. Goats’ milk accompanied the tea.

Now we could eat.

The next day, we packed up our camp, bid farewell to the Gurneys, and set off back to Adelaide and Melbourne. The last morning we spent clearing the cave of our belongings and entering last minute records.

The passion to know what the lines mean still drives me. My wife, Leslie Van Gelder, and I spend two weeks twice a year in Rouffignac and Gargas caves, France, continuing this work. I have learned many lessons but I still do not have the answer. But I am filled with hope. And dreams.

Sample Chapters

Accompanying this proposal are preliminary versions of Chapters 4 and 5 to illustrate my writing style and approach.

Status

The book is about 44,000 words long and would not take long to complete once contracted. Photographs and figures could supplement the text if thought appropriate.

Audience

Dreaming Time, Living Passion is written in the creative nonfiction style which seems to be showing great success in the current market. Part adventure book in the spirit of a Jon Krakauer or Sebastian Junger, part spiritual reflection infused with literature about the land like the work of Bruce Chatwin or Robyn Davidson, I expect this book to appeal to a wide range of readers. Readers of nature writers, adventure literature, popular science and popular spirituality books will all find a familiar voice in this story. Since people in the US and Europe also seem to have a current love affair with things Australian as evidenced by Fosters commercials and the enormous success of the Crocodile Hunter this book will help to fill an empty niche of real life stories from the Australian Outback. Further, the readers of Jean Auel’s successful fictional series on prehistoric life will be able to find a more real-life account of some of the life and history of people living contemporaneously with her characters.

In the recent past, I was publisher of Science & Spirit magazine, which had a circulation of 80,000 readers. Although I cannot guarantee that they will all buy this book, my name carries strong recognition in the field of Science and Religion. I write in an easily accessible style and aim to raise important ideas while telling a good story.

Competition

At present, no books specifically address the topics I raise. Books on Koonalda and the Nullarbor are as sparse as trees on that desert plain and few have been published in the last two decades. Works that address the same market of readers are as follows:

            Bruce Chatwin, The Songlines (London: Jonathan Cape, 1987).

The Songlines is perhaps Chatwin’s best known book from his nomadic wandering days. While the blend between fiction and nonfiction has been contested in this work, Chatwin paves the way for writers to speak of the power of the land in Australia. Chatwin and I both give voice to the Aborigines and let the land speak through our writing.

Robyn Davidson, Tracks: A Woman's Solo Trek Across 1,700 Miles of Australian Outback (London: HarperCollins, 1996).

Another journey across Australia story, this time told by a woman who mainly traveled alone. Again, the two main characters of the story are the Australian landscape and Davidson herself as she comes to know and understand herself. My story is interwoven into the narrative of Dreaming Time, Living Passion so that the reader develops a trusting relationship with me as both guide in new terrain and fellow traveler through life.

Marlo Morgan, Mutant Message Down Under (London: HarperCollins, 1996).

Although Morgan’s factualness has been disputed, this new age classic was a huge financial success. Morgan claims to have joined with an Aboriginal tribe while they walked across Australia. She sweats, leaves behind everything including her wedding ring and, in return, receives sacred wisdom. I hope my writing does not exploit the spirituality of the Aborigines as she does, but I would like to reach the same audience who is interested in the intersection between science and spirituality.

Monica Furlong, Flight of the Kingfisher: A Journey among the Kukatja Aborigines (London : HarperCollins, 1996).

Like Morgan, this book is a sympathetic account of the author’s encounters with the Kukatja Aborigines. Most of the book focuses on Furlong’s attempt to reconcile her own religious background with her discoveries of the traditions of the Aborigines. My book offers a wider range of historical, ecological, and archaeological background regarding the region and its many varied inhabitants, from Aborigines to the Gurneys.

Marketing

The field of Literature and the Environment grows with each passing year, as more and more people discover the climate for discussion of the natural world and the stories of humans, especially our early ancestors, living in relationship with that world. Equally, the field of Science and Spirituality grows exponentially as people have begun to see the crossovers between those two fields. This book is well positioned to meet both of those markets.

As an educator, writer, lecturer, and book editor, I see many opportunities for promoting this book. First, I suggest reviews and advertisements in both environmental literature journals such as ISLE and Nature in Story and Legend. Further, as the setting of this work is Australia, I would encourage distributing and marketing it there. It also will appeal to members of the archaeology community, the sort who read Paul Bahn’s popular accounts of prehistory around the world. These people can be reached through reviews in Rock Art Research, INORA, Archaeology, and Current Anthropology.

Beyond reviews and advertisements, I will promote the book in the courses and lectures I give as well as through my position at the Union Institute & University. On average, I speak at conferences between five and eight times a year and intend to increase that schedule in the coming year, offering several workshops on related topics. I also have an extensive website from which I hope to attract readers. I belong to a number of listserves in my fields and will spread the word along those channels. 

In the public milieu, I am experienced at radio interviews and would welcome the opportunity to share my ideas with a wider public through television.

As my work in archaeology and the nexus of science and spirit is ongoing, I foresee a continuation of this work in future books that will address finding an adequate mythology for our current age, coupled with the discoveries from our current work in Rouffignac and Gargas Caves. 

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The Nullarbor in its openness, its hidden caverns, and its brutal landscape is really only home to one thing: dreams. Dreaming Time, Living Passion follows the dreams that people have storied into and onto the Nullarbor. Some people dream the empty space above the Nullarbor − in the Aboriginal Dreamtime; some the empty space on the Nullarbor − as a pastoralists’ haven; and some the empty space below the Nullarbor − over the significance of our early ancestors’ lines. From the Pope’s vision of a buffer between two aggressive powers, to an ancestral holy place in Koonalda Cave, to European sheep farmers and an Irish woman who went to live among the Aborigines and nurse them in their annihilation, I follow the dreams of and from the Nullarbor, from before antiquity to the present day. This allows us to ask about the consequences of dreaming and to listen to what makes a good dream.