From Oz to the Land of the Kiwi

Unpoetically speaking, if that’s even a word, I’ve discovered that I don’t do well with time changes of twelve or fourteen hours.  I’ve had about three migraines since I came here to the South Pacific.  I don’t know if it’s barometric pressure (which it usually is at home) or long hours in planes and coaches.  Whatever it is, it does put a damper on how you feel about travel….but I’m thankful I’ve managed to have a couple of good days in between the waves of migraines.  It’s got me to thinking about how we have waves of patterns, or cycles, in our lives.  You have to learn to ride the crest of a wave, even knowing that your path will likely lead you to experience the ‘trough’ or valley of that very same wave.   You have to breathe through it, to walk through whatever metaphorical fire you may encounter (whether it’s lost love, grief, or a bad day, just to name a few possibilities), to enter into the flow of life.

See, my problem is that I tend to ‘catastrophize’ things that occur in my life.  I’m working on being more aware of that pattern and am fighting against it.  I see a mole hill and make it into a mountain.  It’s likely because of my life’s passage thus far, a journey which could make for a fairly emotional novel with plot twists you couldn’t imagine or envision in your wildest dreams.  Most people don’t know other peoples’ stories….I often think of that famous quotation from Plato:  “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”  You just never know what the person in front of you is dealing with….as a teacher, I see that every day.  The kid who most often acts out is often the one in the most pain.  It’s not as clear cut with adults, I think, because most of us are able to act superbly….Oscar worthy performances.

So, what does this have to do with this trip?  Well, I don’t know that there’s a direct correlation, but I always tend to get muse-y when I travel.  I think of how time alters our lives, how we evolve and go through a series of sea changes.  People we once knew and loved, as we grew up, now that we’re much older, have vanished….some to others, some to geographical movements around the globe, and some to death.  There is a wave movement in our own lives.  Here, the sea is a demanding mistress.  Yesterday, on the ferry from Fraser Island across to the mainland, there were whales breaching the sea in the distance.  You could see the water spouting upward and then the sun glistening on the huge black tails of the humpbacks.  They are migrating right now.  Moving.  Never stopping.  We could learn a lot from the rhythms of Nature.  I’m learning that on this trip.

Strangely, I’ve been thinking about my mum and dad a lot these days….wanting to talk to them about what a great trip this has been.  All of that stuff you do when you have parents.  I see a baseball hat and think “Oh, I should buy that for Dad….” and then remember he’s gone.  This is all part of the rhythm….I know that, logically, but being around such beauty makes you long for things that have gone.  I see families and get jealous because I’m so solitary now….not by choice, but by fate, I think.  Pondering the power of families and clans, I guess, makes sense when you’re in a tribal land. (No worries; just philosophical pondering….trying to figure it out in my head…this disconnection.)

Tomorrow, we go to visit a working Maori village.  I’m drawn to aboriginal cultures, whether North American First Nations, or Australian, or Maori.  I think it’s the druid in me, to be honest.  (You are talking about the girl who once took a leaf for a walk….but that’s another story, as Hammy Hamster would say!)  I am hopeful that I’ll find a piece of Maori art that isn’t mass produced.

Art connects me to the world, I think, and maybe that’s why I find such joy and comfort in it.  Lots to think about lately…busy mind, busy soul, busy me…

 

peace,

k.