change is a funny thing;
We tend to either embrace it or attempt to push it away - it can be invigorating or exhausting; exciting or stressful - either way, it is there to remind us that things really (and rarely) stay the same.
Four years ago I came to the small rural town of Fairlie (South Canterbury - or more aptly The Mackenzie Country) - famous for its pies. I originally thought I might come for a year. Instead I came for four.
Imagine being a town famous for its pies! But here was I, in that town, famous for its good ol’ pies.
Of course the Mackenzie opened up all sorts of dreams in terms of missions - most of which I never got around to doing, but hey, it’s not going anywhere, is it. As a keen photographer, the opportunities for backcountry exploration left me always salivating for being near those wafty peaks, even if I didn’t get ON them - being around them seemed to be enough.
Now here I am about to make a massive scenery change. Mountains will be swapped for the pyramids (yes, the pyramids - as in Egypt); alpine tussock will be swapped for sand, sheep will be swapped for snakes and winter snow will be swapped for scorching heat. Apparently change is as good as a holiday.
Right?
Lake Wanaka at sun down
As I pack my life away into boxes, I keep telling myself it is a great opportunity to have a good dung-out. I come across old family photos; nic-nacs from travels past; books I don’t want to forget about; that lost sock down the back of the couch and piles of papers I have zero use for. Why did I even keep them …
I dig my heels in somewhat and insist the ‘real packing’ cannot begin until I have finished my school marking - the marking being an imperfect distraction - but also secretly wishing that all of my stuff could be magic’d into a safe place somewhere to save me the pain of deciding what stays, and what goes.
And so I don’t sleep as a result.
I toss and turn at night with the voices of those well-meaning folk in my head uttering “what the f**k are you going to Egypt for?” I try to sort it all out into boxes I can put the lid on long enough to allow me some shut-eye, but it’s been weeks now, and the sleep isn’t coming. I am an impeding train-wreck.
But that’s ok.
It is what it is. That’s change. That’s my sensible logical rational brain telling me that change is strange and surreal and scary and tiring. It’s my playful, adventurous, searching, inquisitive and curious brain telling me that new experiences are just around the corner!
It’s also my tired, exhausted, worn out brain telling me I probably quite liked being in one place for longer than a year, especially after ‘the year from hell’. Man, it’s been one hell of a year.
I feel ready for the challenge - to tackle those sand storms and snakes;
and
to capture something new in my frame.
There are two kinds of people - those who go with the flow; and those who flow with the go.
I’m ready to go.
To go to that town famous for its triangular shaped lumps of sandstone where they buried some people yonks ago.
