Adventure and home

And being here for it all

Hi love,

I wrote the following a couple of weeks ago when we returned from our overseas adventure. Since then we’ve been immersed in illness and getting back in the swing of life, but things are still pleasantly peaceful…

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The birds start singing early, around 4am. I hear kookaburras, magpies, and the gentle twitters of others I can’t identify. The cacophony grows as the minutes tick by, and I lie awake listening to other sounds around me. The pitter patter of dog paws making their way around the living room, a tap dripping, just once, and Jarad stirring next to me. We fell asleep at 7 last night, tired from travel and jet lag. A blissful exhaustion that makes you feel high. When your body slips into sleep so effortlessly and god it feels good. Bone tired from too much fun, but you know you’ll wake early, filled with enthusiasm and keen to immerse in those things you love about home. The perfect spring sunshine. Your favourite health food shop. Creature comforts and pretty things adorning your space. There needs to be a word for that feeling. It’s almost the same excitement as when you set off on a journey. A whole new love of home.

A month ago we took off on an adventure to the UK. Jarad’s sister was getting married so we booked our flights, packed our bags and set off on our first international journey together. This seemed strange and surreal because we’ve both travelled quite a bit in the past, but not for a while, and not together. It didn’t feel real until I was sitting at the airport, hot tears streaming down my cheeks because I was devastated about leaving my dog. And scared. (Because as I’ve aged I’ve become so much more protective of this life, learning over time that it’s not a guarantee). Don’t think I don’t know how strange I am. I don’t know anyone else who’s so attached to their dog. But man, there’s nothing quite like the bond between a middle-aged childless woman and her working dog (hahaha).

At the wedding I was asked several times ‘what I do.’ I seem to always answer that question with, ‘You mean for work?’ I mean, it’s obvious. But my paid work takes up less than 10% of my waking hours. And so to answer the question of ‘what I do’ with what I do for work seems kind of inauthentic - because what I do 90% of my time is potter around the house, take my dog for walks, entertain said dog, spend time with my family, help out with my nephews, manage the day to day of the household, and make sure we’re all fed and healthy. So the last time someone asked me this question I couldn’t help but say something along the lines of, ‘Lots of things. I teach a bit of yoga, write, take care of the house, and look after my dog and nephews.’ It’s a bit of a mouthful but my ‘work’ just isn’t a very big part of my life these days. But, to circle back to my original point if you can even remember it - my dog is. A big part. We’re together all the time and so much of my purpose revolves around him. So yeah, I was embarrassingly heartbroken to leave him, in the very loving and capable hands of my dad, for a month.

And what a wonderful month it was. A total whirlwind of details I’ll spare you because you probably know how it is. Grand adventures intercepted by long car rides, and occasional logistical stresses - like trying to figure out the UK sim card you just bought that doesn’t allow you to make international calls or use your data. In each other’s pockets so much it’s almost impossible to separate yourself from the two-headed-monster that is ‘we.’ I’m not surprised but I’m smug to say that we travel so well together, and managed the entire month without a single argument. How did we get so lucky? We wonder if it’s so easy because we don’t have kids. How much harder it would be with them. If it would change how we are together. And then, though we don’t know if it would, and maybe we’d still be happy or even happier, we feel glad that it’s just us, and the dog, and this blissful little life we’re creating together.

Travel buds

Ah, the UK. My love for its romance was felt viscerally at times, deep down in my bones. The beautiful, old, stone cottages. Wild whimsical gardens filled with thoughtful, pretty chaos. Plump blackberries, picked and devoured every day. The magic of a dreary summertime. The people. The gentle, familiar culture.

Beautiful England

About eight years ago I had a dream of who I wanted to be in the future. I imagined myself coming home from my latest adventure with bags of goodies for my nieces and nephews. I wanted to be that Aunty. Around the same time I had a conversation with my dad where I said something like, ‘I just want a husband and a backyard with chickens and a dog.’ And he said, ‘So do that.’ And here I am. Returning home from an adventure with my husband, home to my backyard, chickens and dog.

Yesterday, my nephews came over after school and I handed them a bag each, filled with knickknacks we’d collected for them along the way. We went through them together as I explained what everything was. They were suitably elated, as was my heart.

I’m realising that, just like the dreams I had years ago of becoming a yoga teacher and moving to Byron Bay, these visions I had of the life I wanted are real now. And it feels important to take time to really soak that up, rather than focusing on the things I want to change - which we tend to do. Life hasn’t always been beer and skittles but right now I’m living my simple, beautiful dreams and that feels significant somehow.

I haven’t always been this satisfied. Much of my life has been about moving towards the ‘next thing.’ Even as a kid I was always trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. As I got older my life became largely about goals around work, relationships, and home. Even in my yoga practice I was often trying to become something ‘better.’ But those feelings are so much softer now. My life is nothing grand by society’s standards (though by and large it’s rich in all the ways that matter). I’m getting older, my heyday behind me (depending on your definition of heyday). I don’t have the same energy and enthusiasm that I once did, but it’s been replaced by a kind of calm acceptance; a deeper gratitude for the simple things. It sounds so cliche doesn’t it? But these are the joys of getting older. Rather than looking behind me with longing, I’m enjoying the way I’m evolving just by existing. It turns out I never needed to get anywhere - time makes sure of it.

I’m coming to realise that life unfolds in its own perfect way, and we often end up exactly where we once dreamed of being, even if we don’t always notice. While my recent overseas adventure was amazing, there’s a different kind of magic in the everyday - in the quiet moments at home, the routines, and the connections that shape our lives. I’m learning to soak in the beauty of the simple things, to appreciate this quiet, fulfilling season, and to embrace the journey without always seeking the next big thing.

Home sweet home

I’ve done nothing to achieve this presence but live.

And life, as it is now, feels worth being fully here for.

Sending all my love,

Jess xxx