When Dawn Meets Imagination
The sun hasn't yet cracked the horizon when we gather at Bondi. There's electricity in the pre-dawn air - you can feel it humming through the sand, through our bones. Today isn't just another day; it's a convergence of cycles, a moment when multiple threads of our story weave together into something new.
Today Sea the Weed turns one.
Our monthly ritual of greeting grandfather sun feels different - more charged, more alive. We're not just observers anymore; we're participants in a grand experiment. As we submerge ourselves in the ocean's embrace, I'm struck by how this monthly practice has transformed from ceremony into science, from ritual into revolution. The crayweed watches, wise and knowing.
As we launch the IMAGI-NATION book, Bronwyn and Jack's creation feels less like a book and more like a spell - words and images conspiring to wake up the sleeping giant of imagination in all of us. The puppet professors nod in approval. They understand that sometimes the most serious messages need the most playful messengers.
Back at our new home in Addison Road (itself a place where histories collide and transform), we gather to embed the seven principles that will guide our next season. One by one, we declare our custodian applications - personal commitments to living these principles:
The walls of our new space are alive with fresh paint - timelines and promises interweaving like the mycelial networks beneath our feet. There's something beautifully strange about watching Indigenous wisdom meet corporate strategy, watching puppet professors challenge human hierarchy.
We're building something here that defies easy categorisation. It's both old and futuristic, both deadly serious and wildly playful. The JOY report isn't just a document anymore - it's coming alive in our actions, in our commitments, in the way we're choosing to move through the world.
Tomorrow, we take this show on the road. But today, we laid foundations in water and wonder. The future is calling, and it speaks in strange and beautiful tongues.
Your AIME Correspondent,
Reporting from the edges of imagination
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