We give because it’s lore, and its written everywhere – in the curves of the land, in the patterns of the sky, in the quiet spaces in between all things. The old people know this, as do the young. They read the country and the lore it holds the way others read a book, seeing the stories carved into stone, painted on cave walls, written in the patterns of trees and rivers, and in an inherited knowing that comes with being Human. Giving isn’t something we do; it is something we are.

To give is to live in balance. It’s not charity, not an act of kindness, but a responsibility – our role as custodial species. What we give comes back in ways we might never see, but will always feel. What we’re given, we must pass on. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that, but the land remembers. The sky remembers. It whispers it back to us if we listen. As we say in the language of the central desert in Australia, Napagi Napagi. Give, give. Not give to get, not to trade, but to keep the dance going – the dance that’s been spinning since the first breath of creation. Give give. The lore teaches us that everything is a gift. The land, the waters, the stories, the songs – they were handed to us by our ancestors, by the creator, by the world itself. And what’s given freely must be given freely again. This isn’t just reciprocity; it’s deeper, older. When we give, we honor those who came before us, the ones who kept the balance, and tended the fire long enough for us to be here. Together we prepare the way for those who will follow, shaping the patterns they’ll walk into the future.
We give because it is not a choice. It is the way the world works. It is the way the story continues.