Country is everything. It’s family, it’s life, it’s connection.

I keep coming back to that. Not in a slogan way. More like something I test against my own habits. The way I test food. Or sleep. Or whether the screen time is quietly wrecking me.

Country is the term often used by Aboriginal peoples to describe the lands, waterways and seas to which they are connected. But it is more than a place. For Aboriginal peoples, country is much more than a place. Rock, tree, river, hill, animal, human all were formed of the same substance by the Ancestors who continue to live in land, water, sky.

Country is alive. Country is timeless. And Country is us.

When the British came here, their idea of home was their homesteads. Our idea of home is Country. In white society, a person’s home is a structure made of bricks or timber, but to our people our home was the land that we hunted and gathered on and held ceremony and gatherings.

I think about that difference a lot. Bricks or timber versus hunted and gathered on. One feels contained. The other feels lived with.

The term contains complex ideas about law, place, custom, language, spiritual belief, cultural practice, material sustenance, family and identity. Aboriginal law and spirituality are intertwined with the land, the people and creation, and this forms their culture and sovereignty. The Ancestors taught the peoples the ways of living in country, and these ways were called Law.

Country encompasses land, waterways, seas and skies, as well as the energy and space in between. It also encompasses relationships. Relationships with plants, relationships with animals and relationships with Ancestors. Country is filled with relations speaking language and following Law, no matter whether the shape of that relation is human, rock, crow, wattle.

So while Country is place, it is also relationship. First Nations relationships within Country are grounded in reciprocity. Reciprocity is about mutual respect and exchange. We take only what is needed, so natural resources are never exhausted. We endeavour to live with the land; they seemed to live off it.

That line sits heavy. Live with. Not live off. It feels like the difference between training for punishment and training for adaptation. Between extracting and participating.

The health of land and water is central to their culture. If we do not sustain the land, when we only take and not give back, we are destroying this library. It’s just like a big book to us. This whole land. Destruction is like ripping pages from our library books, it is like cutting the hearts of our people, cutting our identity and our cultural philosophy that sustains our spiritual connectedness to country.

It is hard not to see the parallel. When the book is torn, something internal goes with it.

Observing and listening to Country can teach us important lessons. Lessons about the past, present and future. Country was, and still is to many, a place of learning. It’s like a bush library for us, and often a bush university too. It is there that we study and understand, and have learnt about the land and the care of that land over thousands of years. We can read it like a GPS.

There is something steady about that. Learning not from a feed that refreshes every second, but from trees, tides, seasons. From repetition that actually means something.

Country informs Songlines and old stories, including those of the Dreaming. At the same time, Songlines and old stories show us how to navigate and protect Country. Maintaining this connection is vital to pass on important stories to younger generations.

The land owns Aboriginal people and every aspect of their lives is connected to it. We were the owners. And occupiers. And custodians. And caretakers.

Country is family, culture, identity. Country is self. The land is my backbone. I only stand straight, happy, proud and not ashamed about my colour because I still have land.

Backbone is the word that gets me. Structure. Alignment. Without it, everything else compensates.

When Country is disrespected, First Nations people and wellbeing are impacted deeply. Non Indigenous people have problems understanding the close relationship with land. When Aboriginal people try to educate about what the land means to them they often are hit with this hurtful phrase the land does not belong to you Aboriginal people, it belongs to all of us.

For visitors of a certain Country, acknowledging Country is a great way to demonstrate respect to the Traditional Owners and ongoing custodians of that Country. Acknowledging when you are on the land of Traditional Owners is a sign of respect which acknowledges Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander ownership and custodianship of the land, their ancestors and traditions. Only the traditional owners can speak for and welcome visitors to Country or give others the authority to do so.

Welcome to Country rituals go back to when visitors had to wait to be welcomed into a camp or ceremony, sometimes left sitting outside the camp for days until people were ready for them and sure that they would not bring harm. Being welcomed to Country means that you are talking to your spiritual ancestors and you are saying just let this person come through. We trust that they are not going to do any harm on this Country and so do not harm them.

There is patience in that. A pause before entry. A checking of intent. We do not really do that anymore.

We are Country and Country is us. We are all one.

Healing Country is healing us.

I read that and it feels less like poetry and more like instruction. Not a grand program. Just something steady. Live with the land. Listen. Take only what is needed. Give back where you can. Good luck.