Magic in the Mundane

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”

 — Anais Nin

I find myself wanting to skim over details to get to the deep ecology workshop, but part of my practice on the blog is trying to include all the random details that make up a life. I arrive at Nikki’s house before her and make her dinner. I’ve toyed with the idea of coming up with an Alias for her on this platform, but alas, I know she won’t mind that I am writing about her, so here we go.

Nikki is a paramedic, who also maintains a deep zest for life and a childlike wonder of the universe. We met at a bar whilst I was beyond drunk five years ago, and to my pleasant surprise Nikki took me in and we became the best of mates (as they say). Flash forward to today and here I am cooking dinner for her to come home to as if I hadn’t just flown across the world. As if I wasn’t standing in her kitchen on the opposite side of the hemisphere.

Seeing Nikki again after all this time is warm like honey. It feels natural and right for me to be here, as though no time has passed at all. We catch up briefly over dinner and head to bed. She has a 6a shift, which luckily is the last one of my trip! I sleep soundly. I have always been grateful for my ability to clonk out on demand. I wake up to a warm flat white hovering over my head, Nikki already in uniform. We hop in the car and head out.

You know those friends that feel like family? The ones that ground you and feel like you may not be as crazy as you think because this person exists? Yeah, that is Nikki for me. I drop her off and hop into the drivers seat, smirking at her sign ‘Don’t forget the foot break’ reminding me to take off the parking brake, but really to give my feet a break, and I start the drive to the workshop. I am happy to have the familiar memory of driving on the left side of the road, and the freedom that a car affords. I grip the steering wheel with a little extra caution while I orient myself and then driving becomes easy and comfortable.

I stop in town to visit my favorite coffee shop. I am delighted by their choices in espresso, and the ease of an Egg and Bacon Roll. I am equally delighted by their collection of rare plants floating around on display. Polka dot begonia, Monstera Thai constellation, Scindapsus exotica… the list was quite impressive. Australian coffee shops hold a very particular aesthetic that has served a major source of inspiration for my business and what I look for in cafes. I can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but it has something to do with the layout, the lighting, and the ease.

After coffee, I stock up on groceries and start my meander down the coast. Our deep ecology facilitator has crafter a rideshare spreadsheet, and I am headed to pick up a woman named Bryony. In no great rush, and with an impending bout of jet lag, I let myself wander the coast and pop into another coffee shop called ‘BOHO on the coast.’ I nestle into a table, painted dark black, and finish yesterday’s blog post. I notice an old man with a stack of papers, and I can’t help but to be nosy. ‘Do you mind if I ask you what you’re writing?’ I ask this man, he looks at me shocked and amused, but not angy, and says ‘Well I’m studying the effects of our Antarctic stations on the Elephant seal population.’ We chat about his life work, and I thank him and finally sort out where the heck I am going. After orienting myself, I continue the journey south, pulling off one more time to walk on the yellow-orange rocks on the coast line. Mussels cling to the cliffs as my soul tries to find it’s way back to my body after this strange time-travel time-warp experience I am in.

I drive into the caravan park looking for who I assume to be an old woman, but am happily surprised to greet a young woman in her 30s standing in front of me. I briefly explain my Californian accent and she hops in the car and we carry on. Neither of us knowing exactly what to expect for this workshop, and she had accidentally booked the Tassie workshop instead of Melbourne where she lives, and was a little ruffled by all of the traveling and lack of communication.

As someone who has participated in many environmental workshops, I can give the leaders fair grace as most people who have their attention turned towards nature are not inclined/ able to adapt to the inhuman rate in which technology advances. I assure her everything is about to go swimmingly, not knowing myself very well what is about to transpire. We share our stories, and what brought us here. Bryony shares her confusion at having to bring our own cup, bowl and spoon for meals, a fact in which I hadn’t even noticed. I’ve spent over 9 months of my undergrad in the back country, and my bowl and spoon are some of the first guests to jump in my bag.

We arrive at the ferry to join a long line of travelers headed to the island. I notice a woman in a pink hat, and tell Bryony that I would bet this woman is in our course. Something about the way she walks. Something about the way I see myself in her.