Twenty one years ago — against the advice of many well meaning friends — I purchased 100 acres of coastal land south of Hobart at the same time as quitting a tenured teaching position at the University of Tasmania. Thus, in pursuit of a full time 24/7 connection to an actual landscape/waterscape/skyscape, rather than the citified, intellectualized, institutionalized, romanticized view of nature, I ventured onto and into a whole new way of being.
It is one thing to be a student of the environment whilst ensconced in the cultural safety net of urban living. Quite another to abandon this altogether and come face to face with one’s maker on a daily and nightly basis. The first four years were without electricity, telephone, TV, radio, running water or any other “convenience” associated with “civilized” living.
As with any journey of discovery into the unknown, the initial “price” paid for the privilege of living so closely with the earth slowly moved away from the deficit side of the ledger. With each ensuing year, whether it be psychic income or creative/artistic income or emotional income or relational income, all gained momentum. Today, the balance sheet of my small yet sweet life sits comfortably in surplus.
Not that the rains of sadness, grief and pain don’t shower down anymore. They still do. But the ability — and willingness — to remain out in the rain comes with a certain sense of well being attached to contentment.
Soaking in a perfumed bath at the end of a “Work” day, whilst water droplets trickle down eucalypt leaves unto on my wrinkled face, is the just reward gained for perseverance, patience and loving.
Being bathed by the water element in an atmosphere of water is a luxury and privilege known only to those willing to abandon all.
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