That is how long it’s been since my last blog post!! It’s been niggling away that it’s “been a while”, but I didn’t think THAT long. I could have conceived a child, gained 30kg and popped a baby out (as you do), in that time. Nothing like that, of course…
My lovely girls and I moved from Darwin to Hobart, said sad goodbyes to wonderful friends and a fantastic lifestyle, and embraced long-lost family and friends and another amazing lifestyle.
We rented a beautiful home in a quiet bay with gorgeous rambling old gardens, and a delightful history. Somewhere in my garden, or between the walls of our warm and lovely home… or perhaps in the expansive views of water and sky from my deck, or the circle of loved ones, I found myself. I didn’t even know I was lost before that.
I am so ridiculously content, and my girls often tell me how much they love it here. A local shop-keeper, who knows of our lovely home, said to me a few months ago, “No wonder you’re always so happy!” It’s not about the house, or where it is, or what amazing discoveries I make in my garden… it’s about living my life authentically. I am where I want to be, doing what I want to do, with people that I love.
I don’t deny that I landed on my feet after taking a massive leap of faith, staying connected into that glow of certainty I felt in my belly when I decided I was moving back to Tasmania. I had to let go of all control – for anybody that knows me well, I can be a control freak and suffered greatly from stress and anxiety until last year. I simply trusted that whatever house was available at the time, and we were approved for – THAT was where we would live, and the girls would go to the local school, and the people in the local shops would become our new community. Everybody we were to encounter would become part of our journey. Thankfully, trusting in all of that paid off.
“Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller’s wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night…”
Henry David Thoreau