Unfamiliar Terrain

Today on my morning walk it rained. This was not a bad thing. I watched people ducking for cover; however, I like the rain. It is wet, not bad.

The path takes me along the beachfront and eventually over a large headland. At one point I looked across a small beach inlet toward the headland and noticed a Pandanus tree up high, nestled into the rocks. I imagined what it would feel like to be sitting under that tree, sheltered from the rain, looking out to sea. Then it struck me…why imagine it, just climb up there and experience it!

Pushing aside apprehension, ignoring my inner voice screaming at me that this is NOT something we do… I walked to the headland and climbed. Rock by rock. It was slippery and wet, I stumbled a few times, but I got there! Sitting under that Pandanus tree, (actually, hanging on for dear life) it felt just as I had imagined it, serene and simultaneously empowering!

To my right the headland twisted around a corner, south to another beach. The tide was high and glistened in the half rain, half sun below.

Perhaps I could keep going. Could I scramble over those huge rocks? Their surfaces are rough. Volcanic.

I knew a park and the beach beyond the headland could be accessed via the path above me. The man-made scenic walkway above had been cemented into the land mass, bordered by steel wire, lovers’ locks and memories of sailors passed. But down here just below the eyes of whale watchers, Fitbit checkers and soul searchers I clung, unsure as to whether the way forward on these jagged edges, was possible. Would I fall? What lay ahead? Would I eventually be stopped short, staring defeated into the deep blue, balanced precariously on a precipice?

But this is our life experience isn’t it? Aren’t we always challenged with doubt, with fear? I could go back the way I came, which on its own was not without some difficulty, or I could move forward into this unfamiliar landscape.

I stepped out. Immediately I slipped and grazed my leg. Grasping furiously at the monolithic surface, I glued myself to the rockface. So, this is how it would be. But I was O.K. Just startled. Go on.  

I found a surface small enough to place my toes, hand holds tiny yet perfectly positioned. Gradually a rhythm formed. My eyes found only what my feet and hands required. A hand hold, foot hold, resting hold. Occasionally I was stopped…dead end, only to be shown a different way forward. Every now and then I was gifted with extraordinary beauty. A small fledgling Norfolk Pine sprouting from between what appeared to be an impossibly tiny crevice. Determination, resilience and universal energy, surging life into all things. Shimmering sandy patches, no larger than the palm of my hand, cradled in the nook of boulders as big as cars. A glossy green succulent vine adorned with bright yellow flowers, rambling casually over this sharp, craggy terrain. Gloriously free.

And on it went and I with it…until I was there. Awakened out of my reverie by clumps of Spinifex underfoot. I emerge from between slabs of rock into the park. A figure in view, moving slowly, mindfully, Tai Chi I believe...in the rain. Others sitting on the tops of picnic tables, under the awnings, chatting while they waited for the rain to cease and their jog to continue.

In a puddle I look for my reflection and find it. I am here. I continue my walk home, but the world has changed, I am changed.