3 DAYS IN HEAVEN
Once again; a brief tour to Byron Bay brought about a slew of jam packed adventures, grounding into the pure life and bliss that the sacred land has to offer. I adore the city, but sometimes three days of not a whole lot of phone reception, bush bashing, high vibe snack packs eaten at watering wholes, fresh oysters with finger limes and a side of home grown mangos at a secluded beach reminiscent of some prehistoric wonderland is all you need. That's all you need. Easy. You also need two grounded women, rich intellect and spirit coursing through their veins, thats crucial. Good luck finding those at the Bangalow Farmers Market.
When your tour guide is an earthly angel babe who creates food fit for Gaia or some other earth deity you're sure to be firing on all cylinders. The Brian Octane was keeping the conversations real and flowing like the creeks we traipsed in, effortless, easy, fun and sometimes garnished with sides of margaritas. Being able to consciously "tune out" of all of the noise, even for a mere 3 days is so powerful, not ignoring my responsibilities but rather consciously choosing for my body to rest and enjoy the flow and simple spontaneity of driving around to car boot sales, creeks, hidden beaches, dinner on cliff edges, farmers markets, bars, gigs and cafes. Sometimes you need that freshness to gain access to a new perspective, renewed vigour. Each day was a 6:30 start, the sun rising, golden and pink against the backdrop of Byron's Hinterland, the greenery sparkling as the sun rose, powered by matcha and rain water.
Nature calls us.
I was raised amongst the richest, ancient lands, the ocean at my doorstep and the sounds of waves crashing and gumtrees rustling nudging me to sleep each night. Its only when I no longer had that, that I realised what a gift it was to grow up with the sand between my toes and through my hair, a slight sunburn always on the tip of my nose and ears. When you're older, you don't necessarily have that simple time to just be, especially with the work I'm doing. Too often I'm found cooped up indoors, a laptop on my knee, a tonic herb potion in my hand and millions of thoughts oozing and pumping through my brain. The sleep gets disturbed by the occasional drunkard wearily trudging down the street, the unmistakable sound of drink pouring out of his mouth; a 2am wakeup call. Not quite the same as the sea songs.
I miss seeing the stars; residing just outside Sydney's CBD provides light pollution like nothing I've witnessed before, truly witnessing the millions of stars grounds you into your oneness, but also reminds you of how infinitesimally small we truly are. We're not separate from that universal abyss.
Nature calls us, it tells us to breathe, to remember to breathe with the earth, to dip your feet in the fresh creeks, to run barefoot through grass, to eat, to laugh and to surrender. Ahhh.
The trip was simultaneously too short, but we packed so much into it that it simply felt like we'd been there forever. Whilst at this point in my life, I can't stay there, I know the incredible healing, transcendental power that the land holds. It is sacred and has been recognised as such by our traditional custodians of the land for thousands of years. To go there and immerse myself in that is just what I need, and now its back to the daily grind, but this time I hold the beauty that I've witnessed, the fun I just had and the cosmic wonder of good food fuelling my fire.