Fourty Two

So back in 1999, I was a member of a couple of online communities to foster writing though online blogging. At that time, there were several people who I clicked with, whose writing and experiences echoed mine, contradicted mine, and importantly, inspired mine. I came to even live with some of these people at one stage through various tricks of fate.

One of those people was Jenna. We lived together only briefly, and life definitely blew us in very different directions after. We lost touch for a few years, then, when we began blogging again, stumbled upon each other again through circumstance. Cause life is like that, yanno?

For the past year or so I've been stewing on writing a piece about Australia and all it has come to mean to me, this Canuk by way of Europe, this global nomad who once in her 30's lived in one house for a whole three years, and who has lived an entire lifetime rarely staying put for more then a year. But every time I sit to write it, I find it's not yet done. It's forming in my head, but it is not yet ready to be written.

Then Jenna wrote this (Go read it, now, the rest of what I am going to say needs you to see her words first.); http://figmentj.livejournal.com/212238.html

And the din in my head suddenly roared to life.

I had been blocked because I was trying to write about coming to Australia, about the peace my soul felt here completely independent of all the other things that happened before I got on the plane. And nothing in life is that static. Certainly not something as huge as what I did when moving here. It's not something I had encountered before in my writing, typically I find biting off small chucks, single experiences or events is the best way to approach a blog entry. So it's no wonder this one was so long coming. I was trying to address, in isolation, an event that was dependent on the entirety of my existence at that time, and could not, therefore, be separated out.

When I moved here, it was with a one year working holiday maker visa in my passport, the promise- and the risk- of a relationship formed online, and not a clue.  But I did not approach the journey as a year long adventure. No, I rid myself of everything I owned that could not fit into the three very large suitcases, packed those things most important to me, and I MOVED me, my life and everything 16 thousand Kilometers (10 thousand miles for you yanks) from London UK to Brisbane Australia.

I still remember exactly how the city of Brisbane looked as the plane landed that morning. I remember the water, the bridge, the mountains cradling it all. I remember thinking; "This is where you will spend the rest of your life."

Looking back, that thought did not bid from some sixth sense that knew, just knew, that this would become home. No, I think the thought was born from the fact that I was so weary of life, so exhausted from starting over that I simply could not imagine anything further ahead, too tired to see anything more then the one next step in front of me. Lao-Tzu is quoted as saying " A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step". Perhaps this is because, for many who set out on a new path, anything more then one step is utterly overwhelming.

I had, through a series of past events, emptied myself entirely of emotion, of energy, of life force. I was a shell of a Nikki, going through the motions. I had given everything I was to loved ones close to me, ironically, to no avail- we both healed only after we were well apart. Turns out we were better apart then together.

Even after packing up everything, and approaching the trip here as a move rather then a stepping stone, I had no idea that what I would find here was Home.

But from the runway stairs, from my first breath of air, my sleeping self began to awake. My psyche felt soothed, and began, for the first time in many years, to feel as though maybe everything would be ok.

I've been in Australia for nine years now. The one year holiday maker visa morphed into a spousal visa, and the spouse is now just a friend (though I kept his mother). Nothing in my life is as it was on that day, when I stepped off a plane after 62 hours in transit, and felt the sunshine on my face. Nothing, except one thing.

This is still my home.

Australia has been utterly wonderful to me. It is where I was meant to be. It is where I am truly me. It has healed me, nurtured me, developed me into the me I always knew was in here, just under the surface, waiting for an opportunity.

Jenna, I nope NZ offers you the same peace that I found in Australia.

Before the Dawn

Coffee in the darkness.
Before the sounds of traffic overtake the cricketsong.
Navigate through sleepy streets to the shoreline.
Before the sun peeks over the horizon.
The gentle whisper of small waves as the tide rolls in.
Before the joggers brush past, filling the air with the smell of their sweat.
The receeding lights as fishing vessels make their way out to sea.
Before the packs of cyclists rumble past shouting training commands .
The smell of the salt air.
Before the chattering of the lorakeets overpowers the mournful cry of the sandpiper.
The dew on the grass catching the streetlights.
Before the mothers with prams descend, clutching their lattes like lifelines.
The skittering of crabs in the half light.
The world laid out before me, ready to be seized.
This is how I like to start my day.
Nourishment for the soul.

Kismet

When you encounter something by chance that seems like it was meant to be, then it could be kismet, your destiny.

When I was younger, situations like this used to worry me sick.

Every few years, fate does this wonderful little trick with my life, where it scoops everything up like dice in a cup and shakes me all around. I'm in one of those moments now, rolling around in a big ol' plastic tumbler, getting glimpses of the light over the edge of the cup now and again, and occasionally feeling a little seasick amidst the chaos. It could be a couple of weeks, a couple of months, or a year before the cup chucks my dice out. All I know , is they are going to land in a pattern completely different.

A year from now my life will not be the same as it is now.

 I'm going to be made redundant. no Idea when- again, a month from now or a year from now, no one has the answer. I've not looked for work, as Tiff is looking for work in both Sydney and Melbourne. We've decided to take this opportunity and make the move we have been contemplating making 18 months from now anyhow.

We're trying to get pregnant. We had been calmly doing so for four months now, and had been thinking of moving in 18 months or so to give us plenty of leisurely time here with easy access to the wonderful wanker that is our sperm donor. But now, with recent changes, everything is on hyperdrive. Now we are trying with both of us, and its a race to see who can get knocked up first. Of course, we don't ovulate on opposite weeks, oh no, we ovulate mere days apart, necessitating two 45 min drives each night to and from donors place for collection. For a whole week. Poor guy will be sore and in desperate needs of a rest come Sunday. Yes, we have indeed contemplated the notion that we might both wind up pregnant. And giggling at the prospect of sumo-style belly bumping.

Our lease runs out in two months, and so the agent is putting pressure on us to re-sign. Which we don't want to do, as we hope to be moving. And they have done us the delightful favour of increasing the rent on an already dearly priced home by $30 per week. To sign or not to sign? Moving costs will wind up being about the same as staying and paying extra per week, The real crux of it is we don't want to be locked into staying for 8 more months when Tiff might get an interstate job offer.

All this turmoil. Decisions to be made, and things left up to chance, or dependant on the actions of others.. Waiting on the universe to show us her hand.

And in the midst of it all, I am not anxious. I am not worried. I am not stressed.

I feel oddly isolated from it all. My soul is resting in the eye of the storm, doing deep breathing exercises. Gathering strength for what is yet to come.

Bring it, bitch. I'm ready for what ya got.