the Dulwich Centre website  ... a gateway to narrative therapy, community work and psychosocial support                                       Dulwich Centre Publications Pty Ltd www.dulwichcentre.com.au There’s a garden - somewhere by Loretta Perry This paper was first published as Chapter 4 of the book 'Once Upon a Time: Narrative therapy with children and their families' edited by Alice Morgan (Dulwich Centre Publications 1999).  Once, as a small child, I sat on the inside ledge of a window, in a hospital, a few stories up in the air, wishing for a courageous wind to separate me from my body. Out of time, out of body, a body, I thought, for one magical moment I saw, hurtling a few stories down below, splat. The shrink said, ‘Keep going this way Loretta, and they’ll lock you away forever’. Let’s tie another story to the end of this one, as my father used to say, and go on from there. This is a story about Finn, a young man who was living in a hospital unit when I first corresponded with him. He had chosen not to speak to anyone since the relationships within his latest foster family had deteriorated. His silence precipitated the foster placement breaking down and Finn being placed once again into care. At the time I first wrote to Finn he was not communicating with anyone in any discernible way. Dear Finn, I was disappointed that our first appointment fell through, so I thought I’d write. I’ve been told by Josie that you’re on retreat - I hear the retreat’s been going seven months. Some time ago I watched a show on television and was fascinated to learn about individuals, perhaps like yourself, who commit to and join what they call ‘orders’. Orders invite vows of silence and promises from the people, sometimes forever - have you heard about this? Of course the interviewer couldn’t talk to the people on retreat, so had to ask questions of their family members, or of their old friends if they didn’t have any family people around. None of the people on retreat seemed to have made any new friends since the vows of silence. The interviewer asked them some questions about the silence that had taken them over - questions like: Did silence have to work hard and for a long time before it won you over? Or did silence convince you to commit to it overnight? Does silence on the outside mean silence on the inside? And does a commitment to forever, mean forever? The interviewer asked things like that. Finn, I was wondering whether there were any similarities between the commitment you’ve made to silence and the ideas put forward in the show. The show grabbed my attention, and left me wanting to know more about people that silence calls upon. You see, because of the time constraint there were some things left unsaid, particularly in relation to one young woman - she wasn’t as young as you though. But, all in all, the show got me thinking. I’d really love to meet you but fully understand if the vows you’ve taken prevent this from happening. If the commitment to silence doesn’t want you to come back to a speaking world just yet, could an old friend of yours, or someone from your family, come in your place, just like in the television show …? PS: How do you get to know what’s going on in the world outside your retreat? Do you send your eyes and ears outside while you stay indoors?   killed a bird, squashed it in his hands; not strangled though, like his dad did to his mum sunk his teeth in compliant flesh; relinquished, disposed of - twenty-two times in eleven years what did he see? ward of the state handled mishandled - a complimentary pass can’t hear, can’t speak, elective mute, birth legacied-disposition shut in a room hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again   Dear Finn, I’m sorry that the appointment today was cancelled. I tried to negotiate an appointment over there when I heard you couldn’t get here but it required different paperwork. Regulations got in the way of us getting together. I remember some of the regulations they were talking about in that television show - remember the one I was telling you about in the last letter - things like you couldn’t just go to that place to visit, or have a chat with the people there. Similarly, silence wouldn’t just let people go out and make new friends, see old friends, or go shopping by themselves - you know, things like that. There were rules around these kinds of things. Do you think the kinds of rules and regulations that people in charge make up - what you can do and what you can’t do - weakens the commitment to silence, or strengthens the people committed to silence? Anyway, I wanted to check something out with you. I’d heard that if the rules and regulations hadn’t got in the way, you would’ve come to meet me, or you would have agreed to me coming to meet you there. Is this true? I don’t always trust second-hand information myself - do you? I have to admit to being a bit shocked about you being ready so soon to take this on, particularly in relation to letting someone there know of your intention. The show I watched suggested that silence had people staying put, not venturing out at all and not communicating in any way. The people they were talking about on television didn’t even make eye contact, because eye contact broke the rules of silence. How did you let someone know about wanting to come out of there? Did you make eye contact, did you speak out suddenly, did you write a note, or whisper to a favourite person? I’d like to know more about this step. At the same time, Finn, I’m cautious, probably because I’m an older person, but I’d hate to think that you’d do something against your better judgement. I mean, have you thought this through? Do we know each other well enough to get together in there? Perhaps the team misunderstood your intentions - it sometimes happens that way. Finn, I still very much look forward to catching up with you. I’d love to hear about the ideas you have that no-one else I know has. I really feel that knowing you gives me a bit of an inside run. However, I’ll understand if the time for us to meet is somewhere down the track, instead of next week.   vibrations, blink of an eye - morse code want a family? Here have a kid don’t want a family? Here give it back blue eyes, changing eyes, black eyes, fail to thrive defiant disordered, give it back memories, trail of destruction bird eggs all fragile and speckled in a city dump fucked, sodomised, buggered sshhhhh can’t say that Dear Finn, I just had a call from Josie, our mutual friend. She rang to tell me that you weren’t coming today. I was mightily impressed by your ability to re-think your decision to just step out of a long-term commitment to silence, just like that - few questions asked, to agree to visit me, simply because we’re related by letter. If we had’ve met each other, just like that, you would’ve had me wondering about silence’s slippery hold on the commitment you gave it, especially since I’ve recently heard even more stories about its superfragilisticpowers. I’d also been wondering about you being ready to attend to some of the other things in your life, including whether it’s too soon for us to meet. Did you know that another appointment has been made for next week? However, I was thinking that the SFP (superfragilisticpower) might again, on the day, claim you for itself. So, Finn, I wouldn’t want hope to get you too wound up. Why don’t we just wait and see what happens. In calling, Josie also wanted to catch me up with some news about you. She did say, however, that I ought to check out its accuracy with you - you know how second-hand information can sometimes mis-represent what’s going on. Anyway, some of the stories I’ve heard have included writing a response to Josie’s question on a blackboard and getting out and about in the yard. She also told me that last night you received a visitor. I heard that a possum took to visiting you - and you fed it! Finn, I was wondering whether these steps were a couple of steps too many, too soon? My memory of that television show reminds me of the dangers in getting ahead of yourself, especially where silence is concerned. A friend of the young woman on the show said that you couldn’t just make a comeback to busy-ness, particularly to a talking way of life, just like that, click of the fingers, even if you wanted to - it’s an ambitious project, she’d said. PS: Do you talk possum-talk or does the possum talk silent-talk? PPS: I know a story about a possum - it was told to me when I was a little girl - smaller than you but I’d be willing to share it, if you’d like - when you’re ready let me know.   life story books, pissed his pants, spitting, cutting, assaulting encopretic, assaulted, institutions, your fault my fault restraint as a child too small for school restraint as a child ready for school restraint as a young man too big for little school restraint as a little man too big for restraint how many does it take to hold him down? four wrestle him, sit on him, pin him to the ground   Dear Finn, Here’s the story about the possum - see what you think. It’s a story from another country, told by the First Nations people of North America - my people. It is a story told to me by my father. You might know the First Nations people as Indian people in America. In North America possums are called Opossums and when they meet up with First Nations people it is always for a reason. First Nations people tell the story like this: Opossums come into people’s lives when they’re in tight corners. They bring with them the skill that they’re most famous for, which is playing dead. Many people become confused when Opossums play dead. Playing dead convinces people that the game is over. It gets them to walk away, to look in other directions. This allows Opossum to run to safety. Opossum medicine uses a great deal of strategy but, when all else fails, Opossum plays dead. Opossum has the ability to fight with its claws and teeth but rarely needs to do this. Instead, when things get a little hard to handle, the supreme skill of diversion (confusing others) is constantly employed. It sends others on many trails of confusion as they try to work out what to do. When Opossum visits people who are confronted with a tight corner, Opossums often talk to them about whether they’ve been playing dead - have they been pretending to be disinterested in what’s going on, or pretending to be unafraid, or not showing that hurtful words bother them? Opossums also talk about the many famous, strong people who have learnt from them and have employed playing dead as a strategy, particularly when they were outnumbered. When these people were ready, ’cause they had to be ready - that’s the key - readiness, and when their enemies were least expecting it, they made a comeback. You see, their enemies were so used to them playing dead that, when they made a comeback, it further surprised and confused them. They were not expecting it. They didn’t know about Opossums’ skills and strategies for making comebacks. They believed them to be truly dead. According to Opossum traditions, the most important thing is that you have to be ready. Getting ready to be ready requires a couple of strategies, Finn. Opossum knows that comebacks don’t just happen. Opossums use the ‘dead time’ to work out how to most confuse and surprise whatever or whoever it is that is least expecting them to make a comeback. Opossum wants us to think about everything we know about ourselves that tells us that we can make a comeback. Opossum medicine also invites us to gather all our strength and courage to fight back. Opossums get us to think about all of the people in our lives who would be the least surprised about our comeback - to work out what they’d know about us that causes them to think we could get ourselves out of a tight corner. PS: Finn, I was wondering whether Possum who comes to visit you is a relation of Opossum? If Possum is a relation, what do you think s/he would make of this Opossum medicine story? Is Possum a male or a female? PPS: I was also wondering how Opossum got to know about the proper use of playing dead. You know, the rules for playing dead like when to play and when to get ready not to play dead, to make a comeback? What do you think? What’s readiness got you thinking and doing these days? PPPS: What sort of reactions would silence have if playing dead stopped playing? PPPPS: I love to tell stories, Finn; let me know if you like to hear them. I’ve got a couple of other favourite ones if you’re interested. magistrates, protection, cops, foster, adoption, cases professionals-a-million keeping families together, innocent mottos cancelled, protest, cancelled, ran out of love, did they all run out of love? not in his best interests, trails of destruction, he’s destructive, destroyed, privileges removed, cancel, cancelled families   Dear Finn, Hi, how’s life treating you? Thanks for cancelling the appointment. Josie’s caught me up with some things that’ve been happening in your life - phew, what can I say! Unlike me, Josie never seems surprised at the new steps you’re taking in your life. She assures me that witnessing the new events in your life confirms her belief in your abilities. What abilities is she talking about? Can you ask her more about this? I’d have to say that I was not prepared to hear about you packing your things and moving out of that ward into a shared room with people your own age. I mean, starting to write to respond to my questions and friendly visits with Possum - well, they’re one thing, but this is another all together! I had no idea that you were ready for this! Are you ahead of your own plans? Are you trialing new steps, or are you just going for it? In talking to Josie just before you packed up and moved on, I was tempted to ask her to talk you out of it - it took my breath away just to listen to her telling it - I let out a sigh and slumped into myself a bit, I was so taken aback. Josie and I figured that, even though I didn’t think you ready, she and you thought and felt differently about the move into a shared ward. Can you get back to Josie and let her know some of the things you know about yourself that make you feel you’re on the right track? I feel slightly anxious about it all, but I also have to admit that I feel somewhat in awe of the ways you’ve got yourself out of a tight corner. Josie also tells me that you’re ready for another one of my stories; can I write next week?   families twelve families - twelve times six - a numbers game ten institutional placements - ten times twenty - two hundred and forty-two people rough estimate of course a large family obscenity a numbers game the rules of being belonged nervous vultures bringing gifts of love Dear Finn, Just a note to let you know that Josie’s been talking to me again. Well, one week later and I hear that you’re eating with your room-mates as well as living as peacefully as one can with several other young people in a shared room! Is this for real? Sometimes I feel that I’m so far behind with what’s going on. This probably explains my own nervousness in that I never have access to the whole story. I have to say, however, that it does leave me wanting to know more about your plans - if only to prepare the extent to which I’m always blown away. Josie was also saying that she felt your intention to re-negotiate your commitment to silence was always on the cards - that silence was never forever - what do you think about that? She bases her ideas on lots of experiences she’s had with you. She told me things like: even when confined to bed you found ways to protest, such as getting out of bed and checking things out when no-one was looking. Josie said, ‘When silence refused you people-talk, you involved yourself in book and colouring in talk and thinking out-loud talk’. I guess Josie is seeing lots of evidence of your anti-silence tactics. I don’t suppose that you can reveal your strategies, but are these some of playing dead’s surprise manoeuvres? Just when silence looks like it’s taken over completely, you sneak out of bed, think out loud, and have book conversations? Do these strategies come as a surprise to you, Finn, or are they part of readiness’s plans for making a come-back? Anyway, I do go on a bit - here’s the story I promised. It’s called Wich-apache. I was told this story by my father when I was a small child. Wich-apache, in his dream, went walking. He packed up his few carrying things and went walking. As he walked, he heard animal noises. Then, up ahead, he saw a moose sloshing around in the marsh. When the moose saw him, he began to run. ‘Wait a minute, little brother’, Wich-apache said, ‘Don’t run, let’s talk. Let’s talk.’ The moose stopped and looked at him with great suspicion. He got quiet. The birds stopped talking. The squirrels stopped talking. All the animals watched. Wich-apache said, ‘Listen, I’ve got troubles. I’m thinking a lot about things lately.’ The moose replied, ‘What can I do to help?’ Wich-apache explained how he’d come to be there and why he wanted to talk to the moose. ‘It’s like this. Last winter, when the forest was covered with snow, I saw some huts. I went straight to the head man’s hut. The head man said to me, "Welcome, Wich-apache, sit down, have some food, but don’t get too comfortable. We move around a lot. We’ve moved four times in the last five days. In fact, in the morning we’ll move again, but you’re welcome to come stay and travel with us." I asked him, "But why do you move so much? Can’t you just stay put, stay with one family?" The Chief said to me, "Wich-apache, just this last winter we camped by the river and learned to paddle backwards with Trout. In the summer we moved north to catch a bit more stubbornness from Jays (little birds), and tomorrow we’re on a mission to catch sight of Owl - do you know why owls spread their wings?" "No", I replied. "Neither do we", said the head man, "So some of us are off to live with Owl for a while. Some others of us are off to live with Elk. Elk have strong medicine. They can think ahead, anticipate things. These are abilities we want to learn more about." ‘After I heard all of this, I got undressed. I took off my clothes and hung them to dry from wet snow. Smoke went into them. I then lay down and went to sleep. In my dream I went walking. In the morning I found myself lying on the snow. It was freezing cold. My clothes hung on the tree. They looked like coat and pants icicles. I built a fire under them and turned them back into clothes. I almost froze to death. I forgot I’d been warned not to get too comfortable. I got angry with myself. I set off walking. I walked all winter looking for my friends. I lived in the trees, under ice, and once I squeezed into an owl nest.’ Moose then said to Wich-apache, ‘Wich-apache, there’s so much you know that we don’t. There’s so much you’ve done that we haven’t. Come live with us a while. Let’s trade our medicine, Wich-apache. We only know how to live in the forest, where did you learn these other ways?’ Wich-apache said, ‘If I trade my medicine with Moose, what does Moose offer in return?’ Moose said, ‘Moose medicine. Moose medicine is the power to recognise wisdom. Our power is that we recognise when wisdom has been used in a certain situation, and we recognise when a pat on the back is deserved. This is Moose medicine. We are the largest member of the Deer family and are known for our strength. We are also known for our "tell the world" ability. We tell the world, with joyfulness, about our achievements. The wisdom in doing this shouting, telling world, is that it’s catching. Not only do others start to notice our achievements but they notice their own as well. In choosing to live with us a while, you must have reason to feel good about something you’ve accomplished. Is this true for you, Wich-apache? Perhaps you have broken a habit, reached a goal, or achieved a sense of yourself that has been hard-won. Time spent with us is a time of feeling pride in yourself and of recognising what you’ve done to overcome hard times. This is Moose medicine. Do we have a trade, Wich-apache?’   special placements disturbed children round and round the mulberry bush find a family whose family? anyone, anyone’ll do find him a family handled, manhandled enough’s never enough protection little pig little pig I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down Dear Finn, It was great to get a picture from you last week. Given that I now feel very much in a pen-relationship with you, I thought a picture would keep my enthusiasm in meeting you at bay - ’cause maybe we’ll never meet each other, so it’s fantastic to see you at last. You arrived right on time. Josie’s been telling me about some further developments in your plans - leaving there soon and going home with some new people. I hear they’re relations that live interstate. Well, I must say that this leaves me speechless. How did this come about? Last I heard you were only thinking about this. I can see that I need to talk to Josie more often to keep up with the events. Josie was saying that you’re keen to pack up and go walking again. She said that silence itself is somewhat surprised at the turn of events. What most surprises silence about you lately? Josie’s asked me to write some questions to you, or to you and her. I was also wondering whether you’d be interested in writing some of your own stories? People like me would love to know what you know. For a start, Josie told me a bit about your playing dead strategies, and your escape from silence’s plans for your life, but I was wondering what difference it might make to people like me to hear your stories about you from you. What do you think? So, Finn, here’s some questions that have been on my mind - see how they fit for you. What is it about you that’s caused so many people to want you in their lives? What happens when people first set eyes on you, Finn? Is it love at first sight or does it take a while for you to grow on them? Do you grow so strongly on adults that sooner or later they want to share you with others? Are carers still queuing up overnight to meet you? Has it reached the stage of signing autographs and sending them on their way, or are you of the mind to be belonged again? Or, Finn, are you thinking that you’re too busy with your own life to be bothered with people waiting in turn for a sign of your love? Is travelling around like this becoming a bother, or are you looking forward to more expeditions with families, like my friend Wich-apache? Does this new family meet your requirements? What will you get in return for sharing your many life experiences? Will it be a fair trade?   mothers fathers rules of being belonged … one year? a day? a lifetime? siblings blowin’ in the wind how long does it take to get belonged who’s sleeping in my bed goldilocks   Finn did - after six weeks of writing each week, and three weeks prior to being placed again in a family - arrive an hour or so late to see me; I wasn’t expecting him. At the time of his arrival I was engrossed in music; he caught me unawares. Finn had dreams feathery in his eyes, hair like warm slippery wax, and a tiny, beholden body, filleted and jumpy as trapped bees. He stayed twenty minutes. At no time did he speak, but together we made a garden of rice.   measuring dirt, sieving it through strainers hands wrist deep in muddy puddles spread again thinly on wordless saucers rice drops from heaven set neatly in rows like projects on fruit farms Finn’s farm His eyes alive, dreamy, feathery alive rice gardens, green wisps of hope momentary, fragmentary, here today, gone tomorrow polished pearls of wisdom multiplying Finn returned one week later, to drop in and drop out. He brought the garden of rice with him; it was solidly packed in an ancient tobacco tin - I had a sense of impending death for most of the new-born shoots. A question or two of mine slipped by Finn’s intent to garden. I chatted on: ‘This is a slower time than summer, Finn, but a stronger time for growing because the shoots won’t crumble with the heat. The ones newly born, see, are trying to strengthen their bodies for the week ahead. Some of them are doing beautifully on their own and some, look at these Finn, what’s happening here? They’re already thinking about what they’ve got to work with to make them strong enough to survive. Look, they’re on their side, struggling a bit - see their baby shoots caught in the cotton wool, but they’re pushing on regardless. What about these ones - I think we’ve loved them to death - what do you reckon? It’s hard, eh, this question of love - too much love, hurtful love, not enough love, and maybe there’s another loving - like careful loving, what do you think?’ Finn didn’t verbally respond but his eyes continued to speak. They reminded me of flying gulls snatching titbits from their surrounds. Twenty minutes to the second he was picked up and whisked away. On the way out, for the first time in a long period of silence, Finn spoke, ‘You know Possum …’ and then he was gone.   fragile, silence, heavenly sounds of silence a word is born a world is birthed   I never saw Finn again, but I continued to write. On one occasion he responded to some questions. Finn wrote: They always tell us what’s wrong - how we want to live, who we want to live with, and what we do. It sounds okay when they’re talking to you. They talk about strengths and weaknesses, but strengths are always the things we need to get. Weaknesses are what we’ve got already. They steal things from us and use them as weapons against us. What we say and do gets used against us - not at first, people always want us at first, but we wear off after a while, and that’s when all the things we’ve told them gets used against us. One of my sisters has had more families than me. They’re always watching, especially when you’re about to be sent back. You never see them until something goes wrong, then they’re all over ya like maggots - it’s the same story every time. I think they all get together in a school somewhere - things like we can’t get on with the carers, we do bad things to their children - things that are guaranteed to get us on the road again. We stop being their children and become no-one’s children. They always know what’s best for us, me sisters and me, dunno where me brother is - he just moved again. They always know what’s best for us even when it all breaks down - when they’re taking us back. This is when it starts to get bad. When the family want to get rid of you and they have to take you back and put you somewhere else - crisis places. When the welfare is giving you away, you’re good. They have to sell you, find the things in you that someone wants for themselves. But when they have to take you back, you’re bad. They don’t know what they’re doing, can’t keep track of me brother and sisters, me mother and me father. She’s dead y’know. One day you just wake up and there’s nothin’ left. Sometimes you leave with nothin’ - no clothes no toys no things, nothin’. Finn came into my life and went out of my life. I think of him often, sometimes in ways that make me wish I could make wishes right. But mostly in ways that evoke him thinking out loud, tripping, protesting, and side-stepping shadows. And, of course, I think of him tending to his garden. It was the song that played itself over and over again the first day Finn came to see me that caught his attention and suggested the timeliness of garden-making. Forever now the music will bring Finn back to me:   when all the trees have gone and all the rivers dry, don’t despair when all the flowers have died, for I have heard there’s a garden somewhere when you hear the children cry when you see them die, and mother can’t sing a lullaby, I despair - blessed warm spring rain we are paying for your crimes but everyday and everyway we get better all the time when everything is gone and you’ve lost all hope and you have come to the end of your rope I believe that the flowers will bloom again Archie Roach   How does one passionately language children’s stories of the violence done to them and of the ways that violence can set children up to do to others - this continues to be something of my struggle. Copyright © 1999 by Dulwich Centre Publications back to list of articles on this web page to list of books from Dulwich Centre Publications Dulwich Centre Home Page