[while on a bush walk through the outskirts of wellington]
surrounded by nature, getting lost on an unknown trek through mile-high bush, i begin to think about the fortitude of solitude. i have always believed that there is a significant difference between being alone and being lonely.
always one to be independent, i have taken great pride and pleasure in my own personal quest for inner peace. along with it has come a lot of quiet time – time to ponder and dream such as long walks as this. it is important to me – this lost space i’m in because in it is where i am coming out of this pathetic rut of loneliness that swallowed me whole a little while ago. even though i was immersed in things and surrounded by crowds that was when isolation became the heaviest.
thankfully, somehow, i have come to understand that the decision i made to be alone was the only way to sort through the gloom albeit it on long hikes through serene nature on the other side of the world. but it has been down this path where i sorted through the clutter, now enjoying the refuge that being on my own brings.
however, there is still that one tricky sentiment of being alone. the instance where i clear the bush and stand atop a vacant hill overlooking the tasman, staring out across to the shore of new zealand. the air is crisp and all i can hear is the song of the birds. all i can smell is fresh firewood. all i can see is, well, the entire world in front of me. but it is right here and now that i want to turn and hold a friend’s hand or embrace a lover. rather, i exhale, sit down on a rock and write this brief thought; one of those moments of profound inner peace that i capture for my own memory but also to transcribe a thought that will hopefully tell a great story one day….
…a story of a girl, finding her way.