There are many names for the religion practiced across much of Yandjee. But to the people of Nukambi, the faith is known as Oodjukehng, which like its name in Arumandjee, Gheeridj, translates roughly as "the great listening". To the people who choose to Listen thus, there is a great emphasis placed on the maintenance of harmony, the disparate notes of each individual entity coming together to form a great Song.
Before the Song, all are equally singers and dancers, each capable of changing the music and obliged to dance to it. Even the greater spirits, of which there are many, are similarly obliged—and through the right sounds, the right notes in the Song, one can seek their influence in greater things. The greater spirits—the wadja-wadja for the Djoolaman, the maru for the Koorra, the gjaagi for the Warruk—had as much presence on the Earth as any, with unique personalities of their own, but had a broader view of time and space both.
These are spirits who have always existed and will always exist, occupying the physical world at every living moment in one form or another, rather than waiting their turn in the Ever. There are six of these commonly accepted across the continent, although many others join them in one way or another.
Garnay-Gabal—also called Ungheewardu, or Daabirraan—is usually depicted (like his name suggests) as a white kangaroo, although this may simply be a representation of his name rather than his actual form. He is typically associated with the bringing of agriculture, and the maintenance of the cycle associated therewith.
In Oodjukehng, the physical world is made of water—water in a myriad of different forms, perhaps, but water all the same. All beings, living or otherwise, are made of the stuff. And when the time comes that they return to the water they were made from, their memories are collected by Djurdil (or Gundarra in Arumandjee), who bears them over the surface of the Water-World to new lives as new creations.
Song created the living world, and the first singer was Kakakangay (or Ngaril in the east), the laughing kookaburra. The patron of music, joy, and inspiration, she has considerable sway in the east of the continent.
Denikitj, called Balaghim in the east and Tjeerdilun in the west, is the mistress of living water. In effect, she is the world, or at least the world still being created. It is from her that the rains come, that the river flows, that the ocean pools. She may well be the most important mami (demigod) in the entire known world.
If Denikitj is the maker of water, then Ungeht-Tubal, Ganyogoolha, the Red Crow, is responsible for its opposite. Fire brings great destruction, but in the ashes left behind are the seeds of great prosperity. Ungeht-Tubal is a trickster at heart, and he has a fondness for self-contradictory actions.
Kumehk, Djedeelha, Amuu, the name is not truly important—this is the creator of time, the first river, the overseer of the Ever. He—or she—is the Dark Serpent, who wove through the land and now bids his—or her—children light the skies with nebula swirls and rainbow arcs. As such, he provides guidance for those below who look to the Heavens.
These are spirits who have the specific interests of humanity in mind, and are more willing to intercede on a personal level.
As far as the followers of Oodjukeng are concerned, both their descendants and their ancestors (karurr, singular kamerr) are all planned out, long lines in the Ever providing a connection to their living selves. And blessings can be sent both ways, "backwards" and "forwards" in time, helping the entire line along.
There are a few people (tjudjuruhng, singular tjudjumehng) who are revered for the changes they made to the world of their own volition, seeking to better themselves and those around them. These people, too, are given prayers, although they tend to receive them most often from tradespeople in their lines of work.
Established by the tjudjumehng Milahr of Tjamorruk in the 2nd Century AB, the Creed (Kunduh in modern Arrahng) establishes certain guidelines for those seeking to more effectively hear the Song and move with the flow of the universe.
Milahr, using music as his metaphor of choice, explained that it was possible to be both "too high" and "too low" when seeking to sing along with the cosmos. "Too high" meant too much thought on the subject, being too cautious, using logic to hide insecurity. "Too low" meant too little consideration for things, acting purely on instinct or primitive urges. Theft, for example, was a "low note", while avarice was a "high note"—both of these spoke of a struggle to survive instead of a consideration for the world and the systems within it that might allow one to gain what one needed.
Key to this, however, was that Milahr permitted "arpeggios". It was impossible, he said, to be constantly in tune with a Song one was hearing for the first time. So long as the tune remained harmonious, one could allow small deviations—if one's life was in danger one could steal bread; if there was plenty and prosperity it did no harm to take for oneself to store for later.
Milahr laid out five Notes, points which one should consider as one passed through life. Even the heroes, the demigods, and one's ancestors and descendants could hear these notes, he said; they would sing in tune with one more clearly and cleanly if one sang them properly.
One must therefore be fair and just in one's dealings, knowing that the outcome could be one that oneself might have to face—and wondering whether it is fair that this occur. Maintain an honourable conduct; do not lie, but do not hurt by your words. The chief method of singing here is mentorship.
Pride and shame are equal sides of the same coin—and both lead to disaster. Pride leads to disrespect; shame leads to servility. True humility, the recognition that one is part of a wider universe and one has a place within it, clears the mind and lets the Song's intricacies become known. Therefore one recognizes one's place, and conforms to what one needs to do. The chief singing method is labour.
The word which means "love" in the language of the Kuhurra more specifically refers to an awe and joy in the presence of another being, and the respect that comes with it. Too little love and one becomes cold and puritan; too much, and one becomes possessive and even perverse as one seeks to dominate the other being. Respect that something is not oneself—but do not isolate yourself from it. The chief singing method is singing itself.
Too much courage (ginyal) is aggression, anger, and blind rage; too little is cowardice, unthinkingness. One must be decisive, and choose to do something with strength of mind and heart. The chief singing method is exercise.
Without knowledge, one deals in foolishness; with too much knowledge, one becomes cynical. It is therefore essential that one balance one's expectations and one's reality, but not let one overwhelm the other. Wisdom comes in speaking and listening both. The chief singing method is listening itself—learning from others and meditating upon it.
This was added by later philosophers, a "natural addendum" to the Five Notes. This is not a Note in the Song; rather, it is the Song itself. Sing too loud and one drowns out others; sing too softly and one is drowned out. An equilibrium must be kept, then, to keep oneself truly alive. The chief singing method, naturally, is living—and to keep others living as well.