October 2022
I’m packing up and moving elsewhere. The elsewhere is my home city of Perth. Why? I’m increasingly missing the clarity of the turquoise Indian Ocean and my daily swims there and walks through seaweed and white sand; even the cacophony of sea gulls. I’m missing the landscape of my place, the smells of eucalypts, beach rosemary, pines, and sea salt. I’m missing the dryness of limestone and granite, and my easy access to academic libraries, the Fremantle arts scene and its orchestra that I used to play the cello in. I’m missing my community of old friends and mentors.
This is not to say I have lived an isolated life here, I haven’t. I have some dear friends in this part of the world too and I do go to concerts and exhibitions, and I do go down to the Pacific Ocean for swims as well as the university pool, but the floods, the rain, the humidity, the mould feel so strange to me, although it is now thirteen years since my arrival in Lismore.
So, it will be goodbye northern rivers, and hello Fremantle, where I’m planning to live. Hello lots of salt water play: snorkeling, diving, swimming, kayaking, dancing with dolphins under a clear bright sky.
I remember one time of kayaking around Penguin Island in Shoalwater Bay, near Rockingham and a couple of dolphins came up beside my little vessel and accompanied me from one shore to the next. Sheer magic. And another time, snorkeling with others in that general area and being met with three dolphins heads down feeding in the reeds below. I noticed the glowing faces of other snorkelers around me. We were in love.
And so I am sorting, throwing away, remembering and uncovering layers upon layers of stories: archaeological finds of my own history and that of my parents, for when I came here it was just a couple of years after my very old father died and I didn’t do much in the way of sorting, as I should’ve done then, but packed up stuff that I have never even glanced at. All this reminds me of a cartoon I once saw of an old man showing his son a garage packed with stuff, saying to him, “Remember, Bill, when I die, all this is yours.” Thanks Dad (not).
We accumulate stuff, material and just memories – all of which becomes a not always welcome part of our daily lives. Quite a lot of it, though, is unnecessary and sometimes detrimental to our well being.
Stuff decay and memories fade, for sure, but far too much lingers, loiters around for millennia. The world is drowning in it, the material and the ephemeral but mind grabbing dream world. The Tibetan Book of the Dead has much to say about this, ghosts and demons as well as very attractive angels. As much as the very lovely grabs us, so does the horrible and intoxicating nastiness of abuse and other poisons that damage the soul. So, the choices we make concerning them really matters. We can release, and we can help restore a good life for ourselves and others through an act of giving, but what we retain we need to have mindfully, with awareness. I believe my work in this place, and wherever I am, serves this purpose: of participating in the restoration of equilibrium through awareness and shared connections.
I will continue to offer my work online and face-to-face here and in Perth. Obviously I can’t be in two places at once, but those wanting counselling, psychotherapy, hypnotherapy and/or clinical supervision can contact me and we’ll do our work together online. Until I leave, I’ll also be available for face-to-face sessions.
This is probably not the final article, but I do wish to say here how grateful I am to have had a platform for exploring the processes and spaces between us in the therapeutic relationship in the richness of life in this fertile land, as well as meeting some pretty wonderful people. Thank you.
