It's about listening to the land and being patient and being

Hear the words of Xavier Rudd, musician and seer of the earth, who declared: “It’s about listening to the land and being patient, and being ready to absorb our dreaming or our path or our destiny slowly, with patience, being ready to absorb that when it’s time and not chasing it.” These words are not only the reflection of a man, but the echo of an ancient teaching: that life unfolds not in haste, but in rhythm with the greater song of the world. He calls us back to a wisdom nearly forgotten—the sacred art of waiting, of listening, of allowing rather than forcing.

When Rudd speaks of listening to the land, he reminds us that the earth itself is teacher. Long before books or machines, humanity learned from rivers, mountains, winds, and stars. The land spoke in the language of seasons, cycles, and silence, teaching those who would listen the way of harmony. To listen to the land is to humble oneself before something greater, to recognize that wisdom is not manufactured by desire, but received in reverence. The land does not rush, and in its stillness it teaches us to slow our own restless hearts.

His emphasis on patience is the heart of this teaching. Too often, the human spirit seeks to seize destiny by force, to demand answers before their time. Yet just as a seed cannot be pulled into sprouting, so too destiny cannot be dragged into being. The unfolding of one’s path requires readiness, and readiness is born not of grasping, but of waiting. To be patient is not to be idle; it is to be watchful, to prepare, to remain open, so that when the moment arrives, the soul is ready to receive what is offered.

The mention of dreaming recalls the traditions of indigenous peoples, who have long spoken of Dreamtime—not as fantasy, but as sacred reality, the deep spiritual current connecting humanity with the land and with destiny itself. To rush such dreaming is to dishonor it. One cannot chase the dream as one chases prey; one must let it come, like dawn breaking in its appointed hour. To “absorb our dreaming” is to let it seep into us slowly, transforming us not in an instant, but across the span of time, as rivers carve valleys and stars shape the night.

History itself provides proof of this wisdom. Consider the journey of Mahatma Gandhi. Many urged him to seek independence through violence, to rush toward quick results. But Gandhi chose patience, listening deeply to the land and to the spirit of his people. His destiny unfolded not in a moment of conquest, but in decades of nonviolent persistence. By refusing to chase, he allowed time itself to ripen his movement until it bore fruit. His path was not forced—it was absorbed, step by step, until destiny revealed itself.

Rudd’s words teach us to trust the timing of life. The path is already present, woven into the fabric of existence. It is not ours to chase, but ours to walk, slowly and reverently. The land whispers, destiny calls, but only when the heart is quiet can it hear. To rush is to drown out the song; to wait is to be in tune with it. True wisdom comes not in forcing the door open, but in standing ready when it opens of its own accord.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not chase your destiny as if it were prey to be caught. Instead, cultivate stillness, patience, and listening. Spend time in silence, in nature, in reflection. Allow your dreaming to come to you in its season, and when it does, receive it fully. This is not weakness but strength—the strength of rivers that carve mountains, of seeds that break stone with roots, of lives that transform not by haste, but by endurance.

So take practical action: spend time each day in quiet reflection, away from the noise of devices and demands. Walk upon the earth and listen to it. Resist the urge to measure yourself only by speed or achievement. Trust that your path is unfolding, even when unseen. And when the time comes, you will know it—not because you chased it, but because you were ready to receive it. Be patient, listen deeply, and let destiny come as the dawn comes: slow, steady, inevitable, and full of light.