Original information and clues: Uluru (Ayers Rock), Northern Territory, Australia.
Uluru in Australia is known worldwide as a sacred Aboriginal site and there are many books, brochures and websites with limitless amounts of information about this very spiritual location; which I do not intend to replicate here. I have however, referred to some in the text and details are included at the end in ‘Works Cited’, should readers wish to delve further. Central Australia is immense and the imposing rock forms of both Uluru and Kata Tjuta, along with their Aboriginal traditions, have fascinated visitors for many generations. Pictures of Uluru are iconic and immediately recognizable; although for me, they invoke an instant sensory response of hot sand, the smell of acacia blossom and spiky spinifex grass on a warm breeze; and a glow of recognition in my heart.
My journey and experiences with this beautiful site, began early on, during my stay in Australia in 1994, when I heard the Dreamtime story of ‘The Last Journey of the Rainbow Serpent’. This particular Dreamtime story was channeled through spirit early in 1994: As the story goes, the Rainbow Serpent was in the rainforests north of what is present-day Cairns, when she heard the most beautiful singing coming from the coast. She decided to follow the sounds and find out where they were coming from. The singing led her down along the coast; and, every time she stopped, the singing would start up again, more beautiful than the time before. At times it followed the very cliffs, rocks and islands of the shore; at others it would meander inland to the mountains; until she arrived at Cape Byron, the most easterly point on the east coast. There the singing changed direction and went inland. The Rainbow Serpent, knowing there was little water and extensive desert that way, decided the only way to follow the beautiful singing was to go underground. So, she put her eggs around her neck, like a necklace; and followed the beautiful sound to Uluru. Where she now lies asleep, curled up around a giant crystal, waiting to be awoken; and her eggs are the rocky outcrops of Kata Tjuta. Waiting for the time when the Earth and her peoples are once again ready for her. The story wove a web in my heart that both intrigued and challenged. It was also an introduction to the wisdom of the Australian Aborigines, who many regard as the caretakers of this beautiful planet Earth.
Later research and insights:
The original idea, of those who first heard this Dreamtime story, was that it would make a great pilgrimage for like-minded souls; who would repeat this ‘Last Journey of the Rainbow Serpent’, visiting all the sacred sites along the way, where she had stopped on her journey. Further channelings from spirit suggested the journey would end up at Uluru at the time of the September Equinox, 1994; when, on the 21st, 22nd and 23rd September, there would be dawn and dusk meditations to wake up the Rainbow Serpent from her slumbers; and to get the Earth energy moving again. It was a noble idea, borne from love and with the best of honest intentions, but which was slightly hi-jacked along the way, as so often happens. Spirit invariably reminds us that specific dates and times can be misleading; and what individuals may earnestly believe will happen, can often turn out to be very different in practice.
Aboriginal tribes, including the Pitjantjatjara are believed to have lived in the area surrounding Uluru and Kata Tjuta for around 20,000 years, possibly longer. They were hunter-gatherers living in small, mobile family groups. Rainfall was unreliable and survival, in such a demanding environment, required a great, long-term knowledge of food and water supplies, that were passed down from father to son, mother to daughter. Aboriginal people believe in a creation time, or ‘Dreamtime’, when ancestral beings emerged from beneath the earth. They resembled plants and animals, but were part human. Journeying across the land, the ancestors created everything that formed the world. These ancestral beings behaved like human beings; hunting, fighting, loving and mating. They taught their descendants the sacred rituals; including the symbols and designs that can still be found in Aboriginal art and body painting today. The ancestors were the law makers and, from their deeds, Aboriginal people learnt the correct way to behave and live with each other. Tjukurpa is an Aboriginal word, which Europeans have interpreted as meaning ‘The Dreamtime’; but to the Aborigines, Tjukurpa is more than the ‘Dreamtime’. It encompasses the past, the present and the future; and exists all around us now, as we live, eat and breathe (Stokes, 1993). Much of Tjukurpa hasn’t been written down in a form that can be translated; but it is, nonetheless, a significant and substantial body of knowledge, kept alive in the minds of men and women and passed down from generation to generation. Features in the landscape are all the result of the actions of these creative, ancestral beings; and Uluru and Kata Tjuta are part of a network of significant places, which are connected to one another. Wherever the Aboriginal people go, the tracks of these ancestral beings give a spiritual meaning to the land, which is more important than just the surface features of mountains, salt lakes, sandhills or rivers. They are part of a whole traditional way of thinking about the land (Barker Souvenirs, N.T., 1990, 1992, 1993).
Some facts: Uluru is said to be the world’s largest monolith and its massive proportions make a stark contrast with the flat desert that surrounds it. It is 348 metres high, 3.6 kilometres long, 2.4 kilometers wide, 8 kilometres in circumference and thought to be around 600 million years old. It is worth noting, that what is seen above ground is just a small fraction of what must be under the surface, with some geologists believing its roots go down more than 6000 metres (National Library of Australia).
Following the clues on the ground: At the time of my first visit to Uluru in June 1994, I understood the concept of Energy Pumping Stations, as places where energy flowed up and down vertically; from the ‘arteries’ deep underground which manifest as lava systems, cave systems, tunnels and layers of geology; to the ‘veins’ on the Earth’s surface where energy runs through mountains, valleys, rocks, rivers, streams, seas and the crystals and minerals within them; and the ethers above where our weather systems are manifest. But at that time, there was no clear, single picture of where these energy pumping stations were located, except for a list of possible sites around the world, one of which was Uluru. Neither did I have any idea of what they might look like, or what to expect. But that was OK, because it meant I had no expectations; and could experience the joy and delight of their discovery with an open mind and heart.
My objective, on this first visit to Uluru, was to simply look and listen, to get to know the energy of the site and, if I was allowed, to tune in. I stayed in a wooden cabin at the Pioneer Outback Hotel, well away from the hustle and bustle of the main tourist areas, which allowed me to just simply be and say hello to the energies of the place. My very first impression, as I drove around the rock on the evening I arrived, was that it looked a bit like a huge piece of coloured polystyrene that had been placed, by some giant, in the red desert sands; a lump that had been gouged by wind and rain; creating holes, dips, flakes and undulations in its surface. It was also no surprise that the local Anangu peoples had a Tjukurpa story for how each of these features had been created; including Mala (Rufous Hare Wallaby), Kuniya (Python), Liri (poisonous Snake), Lungkata (Blue Tongue Lizard) and Itjaritjari (Marsupial Mole). (Barker Souvenirs, N.T., 1990, 1992, 1993)
And so it was, around dawn on a cloudless June morning, that I found myself at the most easterly end of this magnificent lump of rock, near the Aboriginal sacred site of Kuniya Piti. My intention was to walk around it anticlockwise, very slowly; just looking and observing; saying hello and giving love when prompted. My first hurdle was the 7am coach-loads of Japanese tourists and their clicking cameras, hoping to take a picture of these magnificent red rocks as the dawn sunlight shone on them. Then there were the jogging enthusiasts, who hogged the footpaths, with their rhythmic swaying bodies as they huffed and puffed their way round. I cheerfully stepped to one side and let them through, as I slowly ambled, gazing at the flaky surface weathered by sun and rain. Recent, localized cleavages and collapses of the rock face, showed grey, against the eroded red rock around it; but I was sure it wouldn’t take long to oxidize and produce the familiar red colour the Red Centre is famous for (see Geology section for more detail). In places, surface weathering and moisture had eaten away the rock, from the ground up; and created overhanging caves – many of which contained colourful, Aboriginal rock art scenes that were magnets for the busy tourists.
It was mid-morning, near the Ininti Rockhole, when I found myself gazing at a beautiful acacia bush, covered in tiny yellow flowers. They gave off a distinctive smell in the morning sun, which I find hard to describe, but remember vividly to this day. As I watched, the ground beneath the bush started to move. I gazed more intently. Was I imagining it? No, some of the tiny, needle-like leaves that covered the earth beneath the bush were definitely moving. And, as I watched, tiny, little violet-coloured butterflies began to hatch and settle on the small branches and leaves of the bush, to dry out their newly opened wings in the sun. Wings that were no bigger than my little thumbnail. I stood there, enraptured by the unfolding sight; with the occasional tourist walking round me, on their way to look at some notable feature or other. I must have stayed in that one place for nearly an hour and by the end of it, the acacia bush was covered in a mixture of violet and yellow. It was hard to determine where flower ended and butterfly began. I couldn’t stop smiling and laughing at the beautiful sight which had quietly unfolded in front of my eyes; and all because I’d taken the time to watch and listen. Two years later, I recounted this story at a gathering in Canberra and the Aborigines present confirmed what I had seen. Apparently, these tiny butterflies always hatch out around that time of day/year, having been lying in their needle like cocoons, beneath the protective shade of the acacia bush until they are ready. I walked on, looking at every feature carved into the rock and wondered which animal ‘Dreaming’ it was said to represent; past the Women’s Cave and the two sacred sites of Tjukatjapi and Warayuki, both of which, thankfully, were closed to the public. At Kantju Gorge, it was easy to see where rain had gouged channels in the rock. There was no rain, or cascade of water today, but the bushes and trees at the bottom showed water could clearly be found here. About half-way round I passed the main car park, where people were waiting to climb the rock; and was surprised to see an Aboriginal woman, waiting for her teenage children to return from its summit. I started talking with her and raised the subject of how I understood the rock was sacred to her people who believed it should never be climbed. She simply shrugged her shoulders and said it didn’t matter; if her children chose to climb it, they could.
Thankfully, in 2019, climbing of Uluru was finally stopped and the sacred rock reconsecrated. Fast forward to January 2020, and an important Aboriginal ceremony occurred there. Souls from all over the world, gathered at places along the Female World Dragon Line, to join in; as the Solar Plexus Chakra at Uluru, that Robert Coon had referred to (Coon, The Spheres of Destiny, 2005, 2007), was finally activated. At the time of writing, the 2020 December Solstice, has just occurred. During previous months, a request had gone out, from the Aboriginal Elders, inviting those who felt drawn to do so, to help in the next stage of healing the Earth and working with the Rainbow Serpent energy, to build a Rainbow Bridge between Uluru and the heavens. That work is still ongoing.
Back to June 1994 and I continued my slow walk around the rock. It was easy to see why Mutitjulu, or Maggie Springs, had always been a significant place for the local Aborigines. When it rained, water would pour down the rock sides and collect in the pool below, providing an abundant supply for humans, plants, birds and animals alike. By now, the majority of tourists had gone off somewhere for their lunch, and I had the place to myself. So, I took time to watch and listen, feel the heat bouncing off the rock in the sun and just enjoying the calm and tranquility of it all, as I ate my picnic lunch. It was gone 4pm, by the time I arrived back to where I’d started from, nine hours earlier. By walking slowly, observing, listening and simply stopping to enjoy the view when prompted; I had had an unrivalled experience of this stunning rock and all her magical features. I was smiling from ear to ear and returned to my lodgings with a feeling of peace, calm and love in my heart.
On 19th September 1994, my husband and I arrived at Uluru, having followed the Rainbow Serpent energy down the east coast of Australia. We had brought this energy with us and were curious as to what would happen over the Equinox period. I had a heavy cold and wasn’t feeling well, but was determined to finish what I had started and committed to do. The original guidance had been that there would be dawn and dusk meditations for three days as we woke up the dormant serpent energy under the rock; but we were very much aware that guidance like this, simply serves to get you into the right place at the right time; what happens next is a total unknown and can be neither prescribed nor predicted. Many others had also arrived in anticipation of taking part in the anticipated event; but with shouting children, barking dogs and the banging of musical instruments their energy somehow didn’t feel appropriate. And so it was, at dawn on the 21st September, the two of us found ourselves at a remote spot on a sand dune, overlooking the desert between Uluru and Kata Tjuta. Two other souls, unknown to us at the time, quietly joined us – so we were facing the four points of the compass; each asking permission; each being guided by spirit and each trusting that what we were being asked to do, would be exactly what was needed. After quietly settling down, I was asked to focus on clearing the area around me, using the colour healing technique described in the Hints and Tips section. Not surprisingly, when I think about it, the healing colour chosen was a rainbow. Next, was to focus on the Rainbow Serpent energy and visualize it moving down the coastline from the Daintree Forest, through all the sacred sites we had visited, to Byron Bay; and then inland to Uluru. The final image given, was one of a golden spider’s web of light, linking my heart with the surrounding countryside. As I connected in, there was a distinct ‘clunk-click’ sound, like a seatbelt slotting into place, which was an amusing analogy. Guidance was to stay permanently linked into this spider’s web and send love energy into it, any time of day or night when prompted. As it turns out, I have been linked in to this spider’s web of love energy ever since. The dusk meditation on that first day, was in the same place and a repeat of what had happened in the morning – with the energies feeling rather stronger than the first time. Dawn on the morning of 22nd September and the four of us were back at our sand dune; each asking permission, each being guided by spirit; and each trusting what we were being asked to do. My link into the spider’s web of light was strong, despite the cold, damp air; and the aches in my body, which was wracked with cold; but these were minor hurdles. Following the previous guidance and linking in, but without any prompting or effort, the colour healing now stretched right out into the landscape, beyond the desert and deep down into the Earth beneath my feet. The Rainbow Serpent energy danced and sang down the east coast and came charging into Uluru, literally at the speed of light. Energy surged through my body, causing every hair to stand on end, with wave upon wave of stunning sensations that are impossible to describe. Rainbows appeared to erupt in the sky around us, even though there were no clouds and no rain; and the rocks of Kata Tjuta were transformed into fountains of rainbow light. I simply sat and laughed, enjoying it all. My heart felt as if it had exploded with colour and light and my senses were on overload. Later, over a hearty breakfast and lots of hot tea, the four of us shared our experiences. They were similar, with blasts of energy, followed by multiple rainbows in a cloudless sky. And that was it. We had clearly done what was needed and what we came to do – no more dusk and dawn meditations required.
‘Energy Pumping Station’ location and description:
The day after my first walk around Uluru in June 1994, I decided to concentrate on exploring Kata Tjuta (the Olgas), located out in the desert about 30 km away from the red rock. The name Kata Tjuta can be translated as ‘many heads’ and aptly describes the rounded outcrops at this location. Unlike Uluru, the rocks of Kata Tjuta were originally criss-crossd by several deep fractures, which have eroded over time to create the valleys and gorges of today. Given the prominence of Uluru in many pictures, it’s easy to overlook that Mount Olga, one of the southerly Kata Tjuta domes, is almost half as tall again as Uluru; standing, as it does, at 546 metres above the plain, which is 198 metres higher than Uluru.
As with the previous day, my main objective in exploring Kata Tjuta, was simply to look, listen and use all my senses to tune into the energy of the location, if given permission. I opted for the shorter walk up Olga Gorge and wasn’t disappointed. I left the car park, having first asked permission to enter, in the Aboriginal way. Permission given. The gorge was filled with rock beings and I was constantly saying ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ as I walked by. At that time, in 1994, I was fascinated by rocks and their features, but hadn’t yet started studying geology and so didn’t know the names of the rock types I was looking at. But a study of the Park Notes later, on the geology of the NP, was very useful in helping me to understand what I had seen. (Uluru Park Notes, 1992).
On that sunny day though, my senses were more focused on the sounds of insects and birds; and the warm to hot blasts of air that floated past my face and arms as I walked along a narrow path; pausing often to take a sip of water and simply listen. Eventually the path ended and opened up in front of a giant horseshoe-shaped cliff face. The rough stone route had changed into a scrubby, sandy vista, with stunted trees and bushes and the occasional tuft of spinifex grass. In the distance I could see a small viewing platform, but it was occupied by two other souls, so I quietly stood some way off, just observing the stunning cliff face that now dominated the skyline. The couple eventually left and I walked forward towards the viewing platform, following what looked like a tiny, animal created footpath through the scrubby bushes and trees. The platform elevated viewers above the scrub almost as if they were conductors of an orchestra; perhaps a rock orchestra!! Indeed, the rocks of the cliff face, almost looked as if they were vibrating to a silent sound, a silent wall of sound; and clearly enjoying it too, because there was a great sense of fun and laughter to the place. As I stood, simply gazing at the rocks, shafts of intense blue light began to dance off the top, as if inviting me to play. I hadn’t stopped smiling since I’d entered the gorge, but now I was laughing too, both at the beauty and serenity of the place; and, with the stunning energy link it was creating.
Fast forward to September 1994 and, after the events at Uluru waking up the Rainbow Serpent, I returned to Kata Tjuta, for what was to be the last time. As mentioned earlier, during that last morning meditation at Uluru, the rocks at Kata Tjuta had appeared to erupt with spectacular rainbows; and I was keen to see if they felt any different, energetically. On our way down the east coast, following the Last Journey of the Rainbow Serpent, we’d stopped off at Gympie, where there are the remains of an old Egyptian-style step pyramid. A small rock had presented itself as wanting to come on a journey with us; and now it was asking to be placed at Kata Tjuta. Olga Gorge was welcoming; and the energies appeared to have a much higher frequency than on my last visit. But there was still a great sense of fun and laughter. At the cliff face, I was invited once more to stand on the viewing platform. This time, there were multi-coloured shafts of light dancing from its top edges and I stood for sometime just enjoying the space and the energy of it all. After a while, the stone from Gympie, which was in my pocket, started to make its presence felt; and so, I asked the guardian spirits of the place to show me where they wanted it to be placed. I followed invisible trails through the bush and, every time I came to a dead end, I was prompted to look in a different direction and sure enough, another little trail would present itself. After about 15mins, I came to a small acacia tree that had a hole near its base and was prompted to insert the stone there, which I did. Job done, I said goodbye and walked quietly out of the gorge, with my heart quietly singing.
It was some years later, after finding and exploring several other Energy Pumping Stations, when I finally realized that this first pumping station was not out in the desert between Uluru and Kata Tjuta, as I had originally thought; but rather it was at the horse-shoe-shaped cliff at Kata Tjuta; with the energy spiraling and bouncing off its walls. The moment this thought came into my head, there was an immediate link into Kata Tjuta and a surge of energy up my spine to confirm it was so. I love it, the way the Universe does these things at the most unexpected of times. Of equal spiritual significance as its neighbour Uluru; Kata Tjuta for me, holds a somewhat more serene, but playful charm.
As you would expect, the evolution of Uluru and Kata Tjuta is explained differently by the Park’s traditional owners and European scientists. The following notes explain their creation from the perspective of a geologist. (Uluru Park Notes, 1992)
A quick close-up look at the rocks of Uluru and Kata Tjuta, leaves no doubt they are of different types of sedimentary rock. Uluru rock is arkose, a coarse-grained sandstone rich in the mineral feldspar. The sandy sediment which hardened to form this arkose, was eroded from huge mountains, composed largely of granite. Kata Tjuta rock is a conglomerate, another type of sedimentary rock. The conglomerate is a gravel consisting of pebbles, cobbles and boulders cemented by sand and mud. Most of the gravel pieces are granite and basalt, which give the conglomerate a ‘plum pudding effect’.
Uluru and Kata Tjuta haven’t always dominated a flat desert landscape, as they do now. Through the ages, the climate has, at times, been wet and tropical and whole mountain ranges have come and gone. General sequence of geological events:
- Uluru and Kata Tjuta lie near the southern margin of an area geologists call the Amadeus Basin; a depression in the Earth’s crust that formed about 900Ma (millions of years ago).
- The older sediments in the Amadeus Basin were crumpled and buckled about 550Ma, when the sea floor was thrust up to form great mountain ranges in the south and west. Today, the remnants of these mountain ranges, now known as the Mann, Petermann, Tonkinson and Musgrave Ranges, are little more than 1000metres high. Around 550Ma there were no trees and grasses covering the bare landscape; as the plant and animal groups, which we are now familiar with, had not yet evolved. Bacteria and algae were the only life forms and they helped to break down the rocks of the high, jagged mountain ranges.
- The bare mountains eroded easily; and huge amounts of sediment washed away when it rained, to form adjacent alluvial fans of sedimentary deposits. The Uluru and Kata Tjuta that we see today are the remnants of at least two of these alluvial fans.
- As the ranges were eroded down, the building of the alluvial fans slowed. By around 500Ma the region was again covered by a shallow sea, with many kinds of animals living in it. As they died, they settled on the sea floor with sand and mud covering the alluvial fans. The 2.5km thick arkose and conglomerate layers were buried by fine silts and other sediments, which compressed and cemented the arkosic sand into arkose and the coarse gravels of Kata Tjuta into conglomerate.
- The sea receded from the Amadeus Basin and between 400-300Ma the rocks were folded and fractured; and the horizontal layers of the Uluru arkose were turned nearly 90˚ to their present position. The Kata Tjuta conglomerates were tilted only about 15 to 20˚ from the horizontal.
- Erosion of the higher-level surface rocks began and has continued over the last 300 million years.
- A broad valley developed between the two rocks; and, around 65Ma this valley was partly filled with river sands and swamp deposits, including thin layers of coal.
- The climate has become drier over the last 500,000 years and now only a thin blanket of wind-blown sands covers these sediments.
Uluru and Kata Tjuta are the visible tips of huge slabs of rock, which geologists believe may extend down as far as 5-6 km beneath the surface. The sculptured shapes of the rocks are believed to be mainly due to a combination of weather, mechanical erosion and other events such as chemical changes caused by moisture. The major valleys of Kata Tjuta reflect the chemical weathering of fractures in the rock, as ground water widened the fissures; and rain water run-off gradually formed the canyons we see today. In addition, the steep southern walls of Kata Tjuta are streaked and ‘painted’ by the shade loving lichens and algae, which grow there.
Unlike Kata Tjuta, there are no major joints and fractures visible in Uluru. Rain run-off and water erosion of the arkose sediments created the steep valleys with potholes and plunge pools, that run in distinctive series; such as at Kantju Gorge and Mutitjulu (Maggie Springs). In addition, as the feldspar in the Arkose sediments comes into contact with moisture and air, it oxidizes or ‘rusts’ giving the rocks their famous red colour. The colour of the rocks, before rusting, is a mottled grey, which can be seen in the back of many of the caves. The iron oxide coating can be thought of as an enamel on a tooth, protecting the underlying rock from decay. It produces a tough, outer layer, resistant to erosion, which slows the weathering of the rock. Erosion and weathering are still happening today, but very slowly. Almost the whole surface of Uluru has a flaky appearance to it, which is due to a process called exfoliation. Where the expansion and contraction of the rock surface, caused by extreme temperature changes, results in the surface flaking off. (Barker Souvenirs, N.T., 1990, 1992, 1993). The oldest layers of rock at Uluru are now exposed on its north-eastern flank.
The best place to see the composition of the Uluru Arkose, is at Malaku Wilytja. The fresh rock, where it has not yet been altered by moisture and the atmosphere, is light to dark grey, greenish, or pinkish-grey. The larger white grains, commonly standing out from the wall of the cave, are feldspar, while the slightly more translucent grains are quartz. The dark colour of some of the layers results from concentrations of iron or titanium oxide grains, probably derived from basalts in the mountains from which the sediment was derived (Sweet & Crick, 1992).
There have been many books written about The Dreamtime, some of which are detailed in the ‘Works Cited’ section below. I can highly recommend any books with paintings by Ainslie Roberts, who captures the essence of these stories so well.
The book ‘Uluru – an Aboriginal History of Ayers Rock’ (Layton, 1989) has many dreamtime stories related to Uluru, including The Wiya Kutjara story (The Two Boys), The Mala story (The Hare Wallabies) and the Mita and Lunkata story (The Blue-Tongue Lizards).
This is The Kuniya story (The Pythons): The Kuniya converged on Uluru from three directions. One group came westward from Waltanta (the present site of the Erldunda homestead), and Paku-paku; another came south through Wilipiya (Wilbia Well); and a third, northwards, from the area of Yunanpa (Mitchell’s Knob). One of the Kuniya women carried her eggs on her head, using a manguri (grass head-pad) to cushion them. She buried these eggs at the eastern end of Uluru. While they were camped at Uluru, the Kuniya were attacked by a party of Liru (poisonous snake) warriors. The Liru had journeyed along the southern flank of the Petermann Ranges from beyond Wangkiri (Gills Pinnacle). At Alyurunga,on the south-west face of Uluru, are pock marks in the rock; they are the scars left by the warriors’ spears; and two black-stained watercourses are the transformed bodies of two Liru. The fight centred on Mutitjulu (Maggie’s Spring). Here a Kuniya woman fought using her wana (digging stick); and her features are said to be preserved in the eastern face of the gorge. The features of the Liru warrior she attacked can be seen in the western face, where his eye, head wounds (transformed into vertical cracks), and severed nose form part of the cliff. Above Mutitjulu is Uluru rock hole. This is the home of a Kuniya who releases the water into Mutitjulu. If the flow stops during drought, the snake can be dislodged by standing at Mutitjulu and calling ‘Kuka! Kuka! Kuka!’ (Meat! Meat! Meat!). The journey to Uluru and the Liru snakes’ attack, are described in the public song cycle recording the Kuniya story.
Anslie Roberts, D. R. (1989). Shadows in the Mist – Australian Aboriginal Myths in Paintings. Art Australia.
Barker Souvenirs, N.T. (1990, 1992, 1993). Uluru – Kata Tjuta National Park. Australia: McPerson’s Printing Group.
Coon, R. (1968). The Planetary Gates of the New Jerusalem. Glastonbury, England.
Coon, R. (2005, 2007). The Spheres of Destiny. Glastonbury, England.
Cowan, J. G. (1992). The Aborigine Tradition. Shaftesbury, Dorset, UK: Element Books Limited.
Langloh Parker, K. (1993). Wise Women of the Dreamtime. Rochester, Vermont: Inner Traditions International.
Layton, R. (1989). Uluru – an Aboriginal History of Ayers Rock. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press.
Miller, H., & Broadhurst, P. (1989). The Sun and The Serpent. Launceston, Cornwall: Pendragon Press.
National Library of Australia. (n.d.). The Red Centre. Victoria: NUCOLORVUE Productions PTY. Ltd.
Stokes, D. (1993). Desert Dreamings. Victoria: The Jacaranda Press and Rigby Heinemann.
Sweet , I. P., & Crick, I. H. (1992). Uluru & Kata Tjuta: a geological history. Canberra: Bureau of Mineral Resources, Geology and Geophysics.
Uluru Park Notes. (1992). The Geology of Uluru National Park. Australian National Parks and Wildlife Service.