We are on a bit of a road trip, bussing down to spend Christmas with Tim’s family in the central North Island. We parked up for the night halfway and went for a bush walk. 45 minutes to the waterfall? Easy!
We’d been cooped up for hours, surviving on the Peter Rabbit audiotape and lollipops- a hike in the wild was just what we needed.
We crossed a rickety bridge over a river and into the dark of the native bush, I was ready to be swallowed up by its calm and was set on a shower under the waterfall.
Ramona wanted to swim every time we rounded a corner and came upon the river, joyous and tedious in equal measure.
Juno wanted to walk, her mighty little legs thumping out steps but slowing our pace to a shuffle.
All the leaves kept getting stuck in between Ramona’s sandle and shoe.
Juno wanted to breastfeed AND walk.
A mist of mozzies followed us.
The shelter of the manuka trees couldn’t cut through the muggy heat.
The halterneck of my swimming cozzy stabbed into me and I imagined my bra, discarded on the seat of the bus, and I longed for it.
We veered, irascible, through the forest, anywhere but present. We stumbled for an hour and a half… And then we got to a sign saying “WATERFALL 25 MIN>>>”
We weren’t even half way. Not halfway!
It was actually comical, so we laughed, and our laughter saved the day.
We gave up on the waterfall and looked about us. We were inches deep in massive fallen fern leaves, each one the brightest gold, as if a hooligan had stalked into the forest with a can of metallic spray paint and covered each one, in a spirit of festivity.
We found a mini waterfall, not THE waterfall, but perfect for tiny clamberers, puddles pouring from one into the other. And a big angled rock, ideal to lean on and search for patches of blue sky through the forest canopy.
We were probably only a mile away from our bus but it was a remote, tropical place of rest for us, a snatched meditation before the crazy of a big family Christmas.
And happiness filled all our bellies.
I want to say an enormous big thank you for reading and sharing my blog. It is such a pleasure for me to write and I am grateful that there are people who read my words. Despite not having internet at our yurt (did I mention that? Hehe) this has been a massive year for Lulastic and the Hippyshake and I am quite blown way by it all.
Here’s to you.
I hope that you find a glade by clear waters to rest in, that you walk on steady feet as you find your path – sometimes with wilderness on your left and a cliff on your right. (Here’s to deliberate, intentional living, eh?)
May any hurt and pain you are carrying fade away, like leaving behind the cloud of stinging insects, until you come to the wide open sky of forgiveness.
May you know freedom from whatever oppression or oppressive thoughts you feel, freedom that feels like taking off all your clothes and swimming butt naked in a cool bend of a clear river. (And here’s to some actual skinny dipping too.)
I hope you can find joy and contentment, even though you might not ever, ever arrive at the waterfall. (And here’s to presence, really just being present.)
May you see the gold in the dead foliage and feel happy in your bowels.
And may your bra be ever comfy.