It was not until I reached page 150 of this 250 page book typeset in a larger font that I was to wholly recognize the worth and value of Tyson Yunkaporta’s work of genius. On the page, he summarizes his contribution from Australia’s Aboriginal knowledge system – written for the rest of us – with the following words:
Kinship-mind is one of the five different ways of thinking us-two have examined together so far in our yarns. It might be helpful to summarize these ways and define them. ~ Tyson Yunkaporta
Simple words. Two short sentences. Each of the five different ways of thinking were briefly introduced in short paragraphs accompanied by an image – a symbol, in ‘sand talk’ – the drawings in the sand Yunkaporta’s peoples have made in order to facilitate the communication of their complex concepts and cosmology amongst each other and to teach and learn together. I realized then, that I was an untutored sand talker, incapable of communicating without drawing lines and dots and circles and arrows on pieces of paper – regardless of whether my listener was looking at them or not (such as when I was on the phone, for example). Any of you who have collaborated or conversed with me will instantly recognize this habit.
To now learn that what I was doing intuitively was part of the Australian Aboriginal knowledge system’s processes and practices for knowledge co-generation and exchange was life-changing, cognitively speaking, as I felt that my habit could help me come closer to understanding and incorporating Yunkaporta’s aims for his book: which was to share with us the How of Indigenous knowledge systems rather than the What. Here were new ways of thinking, new “minds” to think about, bringing a fresh perspective to the traps and limitations of our conditioned ‘western educated’ cognitive approaches and processes. Every word I’ve bolded in the quote above is representative of an entirely different way of thinking and approaching the generation and co-generation of knowledge.
From ‘us-two’ a plural version of the grammatical first person Yunkaporta uses to replace the clumsy concepts of the English language to communicate the shared bubble he creates between himself the author and myself the reader – far more powerful than ‘we’ imo; to ‘yarn‘ – from Aboriginal English that conveys the complex nature of dialogue and conversation which in itself (the process of talking within the group) conveys the action of sensemaking – collaboratively and individually – as well as ‘object’. That is, yarn is at once a verb and a noun, just as it is in English but the meaning has deepened and changed to reflect the Aboriginal process of collective knowledge creation, knowledge-keeping, and its communication.
A long, long time ago, the Indigenous Gunditjmara people – the traditional owners of lands in southwest Victoria, Australia – are said to have witnessed something truly remarkable. An ancient oral tradition, passed down for countless generations, tells of how an ancestral creator-being transformed into the fiery volcano, Budj Bim. Almost 40,000 years later, new scientific evidence suggests this long-shared legend […]could be much more than a myth. New mineral-dating measurements conducted by Australian scientists highlight the possibility that the traditional telling of Budj Bim’s origins may be an actual account of two historic volcanic eruptions that took place in the region about 37,000 years ago – which, if true, might make this the oldest story ever told on Earth. Source
Elders and Knowledge Keepers use yarns and yarning as a means to keep Aboriginal knowledge alive, even after 37,000 years. Western science has only recently found the evidence to prove this approach durability of knowledge, even if it considers it ‘oral’. I don’t think I even realized I had the implicit assumption that oral cultural traditions were less durable than those who carved words and symbols on rocks (hieroglyphics for example) or wrote them down on paper (the Chinese record keeping for example) until I read Yunkaporta’s explanation for why, if he wanted to preserve some knowledge he would use the Aboriginal tradition of knowledge keeping rather than write it down on paper or save it on a hard disk. My words feel too clumsy to explain the ‘aha’ moment in my head as ideas sparked. The only way I can communicate the heart of this book is through sharing this extract:
“This is a symbol I use to mark a way of thinking I call story-mind. There is more to narrative than simply telling our stories. We have to compare our stories with the stories of others to seek greater understanding about our reality. It is a test of validity and rigor for new knowledge. the symbol shows two people sitting, bringing their stories together to share through sand talk to extend their knowledge. False narratives do not stand up well to this kind of analysis. Story-mind is a way of thinking that encourages dialogue about history from different perspectives, as well as the raw learning power of narrative itself.
Narrative is the most powerful mechanism for memory. While isolated factors go only to short-term memory, or to midterm memory with repetition (as with study for exams), story goes immediate to long-term memory. If you can make up a story connecting metaphors, locations, and language triggers to help you remember something you are studying, it will save time and increase your long-term recall.
Stories are also called yarns, but “yarning” as a verb is a different process altogether. The symbol represents the yarning process as well as narrative, because this is the process by which stories come together and begin to have meaning. Without yarning, stories are just something to put children to sleep. There has to be an exchange of stories if you want to be awake and grown.” [ Yunkaporta, pg. 113-114, Sand Talk, 2019]
Clearly, I can go on for ever and this is meant only to be a book review. So I’ll stop here and continue blogging on the concepts and ideas that distantly yarning with Yunkaporta’s story-mind has sparked through us-two, thereby continuing his tradition and reflecting the message in his book, that knowledge is alive and made and re-made again and again to continue living. Yes, I’ve paraphrased Ursula K. Le Guin but really, who better, eh? contextually speaking in a multi-layered way.
I end with this link to a blogpost I wrote 18 years ago that captured my original concept of the ‘eureka’ moment of innovation and creativity residing in the heart of the conversation rather than the outcomes as it underscores my biggest takeaway from reading Sand Talk: that I too had begun the long and winding journey, in my own way, towards the knowledge generation goals that he was thinking and writing about. Given my own set of vastly different life experiences, it makes me wonder whether what is called “indigenous” knowledge is actually “human” knowledge, before the imposition of the Cartesian mind-body divide and its discontents? Decolonizing the mind is already the theme of a couple of master’s theses I’m currently advising, perhaps this is indeed the need of the future.
…the indefinable “magic”, the unknowable “eureka”, are the actual moments when the brainstorming session begins, and the collaborative voices of the design team, talking back and forth to each other, shaping and tweaking each other’s verbalized prototype thoughts and concepts, brings to life innovation. [Bhan, 2005]
