I’m currently writing from a chilled train carriage. Dressed in my blacked knitted poncho with my thick fluffy, woolen, winter coat over my lap. My headphones nestled in my ear playing calm meditation music, drowning the chatter and screams of joy from the children in the seat ahead of me and the rustles of chip packets reminding me I’m hungry.
The last month has been a big one. Traveling to Newcastle from Gunnedah every weekend sleeping at friends houses, recording an album and doing extra photo shoot work.
This time of year is always a downer for me; winter chills me to my core. Having a history of mental illness, I use to call winter my down season. My time when depression would hit, and I would get stuck in a rut of self-pity.
2014 I was fresh home from my Bachelor adventure and a spark had caught a light to my creative spirit again. 2015 I was about to embark on an adventure of a lifetime to Nashville, Tennessee. Reflecting on my time since I’ve been 100% healthy, winter 2016 marks two years medication free without ghosts in my head whispering sweet nothings of helplessness.
Despite this incredible feet, my day’s are simple. Nothing extraordinary has dazzled my life or painted my dull grey winter skies into a vibrant sparkling masterpiece that fill my heart with awe.
As I continue through a never-ending “to do” list before I set out on another expedition. I have noticed a silence in my life. Almost like something feels missing.
I cease to thrive when I get caught in the mundane day to day. I live for adventure; I crave change, and I passionately continue my quest to evolve.
But yet, here I am on a train. Somewhere between Sydney and Newcastle watching the tree tops blur into the sunset as the carriage flys by with haste and speed just as I wish to be doing.
But I am still. Observing this strange sense of peace that I seek to find within me, questioning my sense of gratitude and asking myself if I’m taking the opportunity to breathe in this moment?
I hate these moments! Stuck in time, the immobility of it all almost haunts me. Anxiety has a chance to rise within me, as impatience dances to the surface. The guilt of not making progress in my journey slowly eats at me and then when panic is just about to take over, outside turns black.
The train glides smoothly, with a sense of stillness, peacefully through a blackened tunnel. The blurred flash of movement disappeared into the darkness.
Right then, I felt a sense of peace. I remember my depression grasping onto me and reflecting back despite it weighing me down like chains unable to walk towards my goals. Now, I feel like it was all apart of the journey. It’s the ebb and flow of life. That darkness and stillness made me grow more than what any amount of mobility had done before that time.
As the yin and yang of my life had finally become clear. It felt like the calm before the storm. Like something magic is about to happen. The train gave a massive jolt as we swiftly depart the tunnel, and I realised how far we had come despite being able to see the physical progress.
Then I realised, I had made peace with peace and relaxed into my seat and enjoyed now cherished moment of “mundane.”