I had recently stumbled in on what I thought was where I wanted to call home, a little dirt road just south of Margaret river, a rarity for the nomad, ”I thought home was in the heart” yeah I’m back to thinking such a beautiful thought as “home” (being that one place) is just a facade.
I Believe strongly in the powers of manifestation and the inner working of the universe, I have always held the idea close to my heart that something out there is watching over me, though isn’t in any form of control. That is up to me, we are the almighty creators of our reality after all so leave this journey in the hands of the universe.
I had finished my travels, the first workings of this blog, though never came to the conclusion, and never wrote about Mexico. That intrepid magical destination. There I had fallen deep. Living Inside a love story amongst the outer suburbs of Guadalajara, re-uniting with a local girl I had met in Canada, she showed me around the city, we made love, ate good food, walked a variety of dogs she trained and walked, we never needed to leave the apartment, she worked 2/3 hours a day, making $400 Australian dollars a month, it was a simple life, we only ate fresh fruit and Quesadillas, and only put clothes on when we would walk a dog or go to the market. It was a dream. Until a month was up and it was time to leave. I gave myself an extra two weeks to get down to the east coast and visit the Myan ruins, blissing on the beaches of Tulum, and hanging on the lagoon of Bacalar, hitchhiking between cennotes, I had officially fallen for everything Mexican.
After a time that will forever feel like a dream it was time to head to make my bread for the year, back for another summer in in the lushness of Tasmania to see my family of friends and pick an absolute shit tone of cherries.
I initially started this piece on the couch of a previous work clients home in what was shaping up to be a regular old everyday life, I had a job, (have a different job now) I did have a home, and I just moved into an eccentric little shack. I have a beautiful van which I am very attached. I have health insurance (thanks mum), I have 99 problems and there all gone inside of that joint I am regularly trying to quit. I have had an incredible life I am forever grateful for, a life not many people will have the opportunity to live, its not that they cant, I guess there is to much fear attached to being so free and independent. Though I promise you there is no finer feeling. My biggest addiction is travel, I’ve seen too much to stop. And this I don’t think I ever really want to stop, 8 years on the road is a long time considering it only takes 28 days to form a habit. And I wouldn’t say it at all unhealthy, unless you pick up some virus, though I went to Asia and India with no vaccinations and have been for years and I’m fine, the worlds a beautiful place with so much always happening at the same time of nil responsibilities, it’s a weird and wonderful place to just be.
So, Home sweet home, that’s at least what I was was trying to base this on. I had thought this at a time prior to having crossed the Nulabour twice bordered my life and belongings back onto the ferry to Tasmania almost a year later. I sit here a couple of months passed and I believe there was no better decision, there never is when you follow that heart of yours.
So lets go back, I had arrived back into Perth after a 2 week journey in my little old van across the nullabour, the high lights of the trip being the legends I was blessed travelled with both there and back!, The great ocean road, Mount Gambier and it sinkholes and volcanic geology, The great Australian bight, cactus beach, all the “Big” icons along the way. the salmon gums outside of Norseman (a type of eucalyptus that boasts a copper colored skin, a beautiful sight in contrast of its red outback surroundings) cape le grand, near Esperance, camped up on the sands of little beach near Albany, and the Blazing swan festival (Burning man Event of Western Australia) which utterly blew my mind. I eventually made the journey back around 8 months and now knowing the capabilities of my van I was able to take a lot more of the journey and venture a little further off the track and take advantage of the serenity of the outback, camping out under the stars off road
The festival was the last thing we would do before driving the last 4 hour leg of the trip into Perth.
I lasted about a week in the confines of city and suburbia before my mind collapsed under the pressures of others expectations, of the lives that have grown and developed since I have been away, deterred by the “professionalism” that a lot of “friends and company has seemed to enter on into. “Real Life” some may say, though personally that’s a very loose statement. What is “real life” to some that’s a steady job, a nice home, a pair of familiar arms to secure your comforts, to me, somebody who has everything and in possession of nothing “real life” is seen as the opportunity to take ahold of what you love, to find what it is you desire and bring it into your reality, life to this over thinking simplistic vagrant is nothing but an opportunity to cease everything you ever wanted without influence of a vast majority “real life” is freedom, free from fear, or at least free from the idea that fear is holding one back, an independence and self discovery of ones presence upon this planet and into the next.
I have been travelling for a long time, and been writing ever since the days of that homeless teenager hot boxing in his corolla under the flickering lights of the multitude of parks that Perth has to offer, to then one day decide it was time to leave behind the luminesce of the city streets, to abandon the heart break bestowed upon my emotional self. To escape the conflict of friends and family, leaving in search for a cure of ones anxiety and depressions, in search of strength and meaning inside the hustle and bustle of that entropic society that had been normalized after so long having been exposed to the chaos of ones surroundings. and with that it was time to leave. Though what goes up and serves shitty food, whilst your cramped up in your chair breathing in what ever seethes out of the other 100 passengers I guess came back down south of Perth in a small beach side community know as Margaret river. This is where I escaped to, somewhere I was able to breathe.
With a thought in mind and yet another pounding feeling in my chest, I had a vision of myself in semi isolation in the thick forests in alignment with the beautiful south coast beaches “Home”. I could think of no better place to fulfil my purpose then that gorgeous little south west community of Margaret River, simply to relax, unwind, find a quite place to meditate and exercise, and hibernate through the winter months, focus on a new path towards music, writing and creativity.
that and write a rap album.
My parents every year of my early childhood would take the family camping down into the south west region over Easter and Christmas holidays, packed full of nostalgia, certain milestones of an adolescents life such as my first love, my first kiss, my first time drunk, my first time riding a bike without training wheels. memories flood in as I think back to those days when I was a kid yet to be tarnished by the society that surrounds us. A simple life where nothing mattered but the sand under my feet as I run into the ocean and dive into the waves.
So here I was again, that course hot sand under my feet, my body thrashed amongst the wave, sinking wine and blowing smoke amongst the trees, once more trying to ease my mind away from a depression that rose up out of the darkness influenced from my surrounds. , last year had been hard, I didn’t really know what I was really expecting with the plan in mind to go back, Peace and serenity, sure, and another summer working long days, sleeping restless nights and getting way to stoned, that’s how it is, rolling in money and weed and doing sweet fuck all else, though the choice is entirely up to me, something I’ve recently become more aware of.
And for that I am aware of the situation that has lead me to this sudden reason to start posting this never ending story. And at “just now” (more) then a couple of months after leaving Margaret river.
What had started as and incredible universal push into creativity, blessed in all the write ways, just becomes a common concept of “highs & lows”, all that life lesson kind of stuff.
As my fingers tense in regards to my eternal gratitude to the small family who who had seen the potential in me and took me into there home, providing me with that little stove heated confines in the bush and filled me full of the warmth I needed to apply myself to myself throughout the wet isolated winter, The biggest hug to my angel, you little witch you know who you are!, And big ups to the boys and the rest of the winter hearts. Thank you for your souls, your love, your smiles soaked in the endless supply of fine wine. you are all forever in my heart.
I truly felt blessed, I had my space warm amongst the Jarrah foundations, windows 180 degrees in front of my desk where I sat for three months underneath the call of the black cockatoo’s, bathing in the scent of weed, incense and eucalyptus, though after a series of unfortunate events resulting in the family having to leave to property and move closer to town I was pushed out to find new accommodation.
A few weeks prior to leaving I had found myself at the end of my money, with a need to feed myself I was pushed out of my solitude and once again out and about in the workforce. Though I consider my life a stroke of luck. Never am I truly suffering, and never is anyone else for it is just a state of mind and a personal decision if you choose to accept a way of living a life you don’t quite feel like your actually living.
Three months before hand, before the abode,
I had met up with an old friend who had over south and started work as a career of people with autism. it was something that from an outside perspective looks like something I would never have thought myself of doing, though having lived a life amongst utter absurdity that a nomadic vagrant with an open heart to the weird and wonders of the world, there’s not much that I’m taken aback from.
After months of trials and training I was paired up with a young boy who at the age of 14 had been paralyzed in an accident, now it is not my rite to disclose any information in respects to the client though two years on from the accident I had now entered into a whole new classroom, something I didn’t really see coming.
At the same time that this was unfolding, I had heard of a small family running garlic farm just up the road, I decided to go and knock on the door and introduce myself, see if he needed an extra hand during my time off. a tall, built man in his early 50’s opens the door, dressed in his all over printed tee of Shiva, one would find the same prolific throughout India. with a large pleasant smile, he greeted me a name I don’t feel I ever need to say again. To turn half of my year into a short paragraph I had fallen for his genius, seen this man as a mentor, fell into his knowledge of biodynamic farming and spiritual blessings to land and self eventually entering into his close circle, as anyone outside this circle is not worthy of respect, everybody else was quote “ a dickhead, a prick, and asshole, every thing and every one are cunts, and woman are just objects of sex, a creep. The self righteous leader of the “Soldiers of light”, though that’s his delusion, on the outside sir you look down right crazy, so peace to you, grow your beautiful weed, feed your beautiful family, for I see your game. You may preach peace though you yourself struggle to see, keep pushing away all those around you, you’ll see you’ll end up lonely.
I busted my ass, both jobs for months, any time I had off working with my client I had for “Him” and I was happy, a cold lonely winter me and myself and the neighbors who everyday I shared tea and lunch, it was heaven really, and I was ready to settle in, I had good wage, and great house, i ate off the land and ate produce within a 15 kilometer radius, I was content, and I was looking into a future within the small community I had entered. Though in the end I did not comply with his cult and I was kicked out.
At the same time I was now full swing into caring for my new client, a journey I most certainly grew, another half year I will sum up with a short description explaining the lesson I had learnt about not taking things for granted, that we should be grateful for what we have as it can be taken away in any second, I completed trainings in such things as Physical/mental first aid, administering medication, Manual Handling, Seizer Management, Suicide prevention, Catheda change and administering enemas. I had developed a relation ship with this kid as I saw the younger depressed child of myself in him and became obsessed with the idea that I could help, though I could only do so much. 16 years old and never able to use his body again, He is far from an idiot. slouched over each night bighting and scratching into his legs, posing endlessly on social media of his struggles, as he promotes the countdown to his suicide 2 years after the accident on his birthday. Ten hours a day 3\4 days a week I would sit in the family home waiting for his bell to ring to most happily cook him a plate of potato gems, or open a tin of asparagus, whilst his mother sits out back chain smoking until the pub opens, whilst I sweep and mop the floors ten times over.
It all ended the day I was called and told that I will potentially walk into a suicide on my next shift, I panicked, I called my mate and organized a buddy shift and eventually take on my client, it was a hard winter, coming out of my own depressions that had been already induced by other peoples woes, the to live and breathe a large proportion of my time in the close confines of another intense depression, to spend all the other time I should have been spending on my self, instead I slaved for some insensitive prick, and felt bad when I didn’t work, I waited my days in good will to receive nothing back, just paycheck to state my claims, no money is worth ones soul, no number defines ones happiness, I had to go back to the life I new, that old home is in the heart mentality. I guess it also comes down to expectation, too much as always. As I read by Krishnamurti, the first guide towards self developemnt I had ever picked up and it said something like” don’t have expectation as it creates the opportunity for failure, ok, so I’m just going to keep on living in that moment. Carpe diem baby!