"Now-ness" and the becoming of knowledge

Yesterday we discussed this issue in class in our groups, or triads:
"Indigenous knowledge is making sense of the world', it is a living knowledge and its very nature demands that it remains in a state of becoming to maintain the vitality of our learning together." - Michael Williams, 2000

This is my second free write after our triad's discussion on this issue.

Well, Norm really threw us for a loop with the banksia story. This brought us to a discussion of who is the "we" in the phrase "our learning together"? Does the land learn? Anna talked about the goannas learning not to eat the cane toads, so the land can learn when something new is introduced. I said I thought biological evolution was a process of the living world continually learning, exploring and learning. Liz asked what learning was, and I said it was knowing something you didn't know before. She asked, yes, but what kinds of things are capable of engaging in that process? So we talked about the idea that plants and land can learn, and can communicate, and are intelligent. But then what happens when a group of people don't believe that the environment is filled with intelligence that's communicating all the time? They are literally cut off from that source of learning. I started to type course of learning again, which is an interesting "error." Liz questioned whether people were really cut off from it, whether they consciously realized it or not they were always getting info from the environment. Hannah talked about talking to her housemates, and how they couldn't even describe the landscape where they grew up. They didn't know what color the soil was or what trees were there, or anything. So it does seem that some people can be cut off. Anna talked about not noticing the banksia trees or the natural environment much on the Moreton trip, because she was so caught up in thinking about what was going on with herself, what was the group doing, what would we do next, was she hungry, thirsty, etc. And I completely resonated with that. I was in the same state. Then I talked about feeling like the land here doesn't communicate with me: I try and try to hear it, and it's silent. Liz told the story of her 7 day walk and how it took her the first 5 days for her mind to become still and finally settle, and be in the now. And being in the now, her awareness expanded, and she was tremendously aware of the landscape, and in tune with it. Hannah and Liz both said maybe the land didn't talk to me because I was trying so hard, and so attached to the outcome, that I couldn't just be in the moment. I am so grateful to them for saying that – it's real wisdom. I talked about that seemed right to me, because "a state of becoming" can only happen in the now, in the present moment, and so if one can't be in the present moment, one is cut off from the vitality of knowledge becoming.
Liz also asked if there was really a dichotomy between humans and nature. To talk about nature could be to imply that humans aren't part of it.
And my ancestors have passed knowledge on to me, and that is part of what it is to be alive, to pass on knowledge, to communicate, to say to other living things, and this is what I am, and this is what I have experienced, here is what it is to be me. I am one branch of the family tree, and I can pass on to other branches what I know.