Below is a dialogue with myself, hence a monologue. It is as truthful as I can be. I’m laying myself out there because at this stage of the trip I need to let my emotions wild.
“What are you thinking about? Are you thinking about how you feel, if you are cold, hot or just right? Are you thinking about a cup of tea to make the afternoon taste sweeter? I’m thinking about my life in the last eleven months. I’m thinking about what I’ve been thinking about throughout this journey.
My first vivid memory of a dialogue with myself is at Greenly Beach. Just north of Port Lincoln. I get some alone time and lay on the sand, shaded by a rock. I am reading “The Weather Makers” by Tim Flannery. I have just read about the first official proof of an animal going extinct due to climate change – the human induced kind of climate change. I close the book, lay it on the sand and cry. Not like the weeping, sobbing crying you may be imagining. The silent kind, the painful kind. The kind that hurts all the way inside your bones and makes you feel guilty for every heart beat you steal from the Earth. How can we do these things? How can we be so greedy? Taking life from another for what? Money? Power? I can’t rationalise it because I do not believe it is rational. This is the first time I cry on this trip.
My second distinct memory of my thoughts is on the Nullarbor. Cowering in my tent, howling winds, pelting rain deafening the silence of the outback. A full day in my tent alone. My monologue continues. Why am I here? There is no reason I can think of. What do I want in life? I’ve seen someone with a tattoo of some words, good advice, not good enough to get it tattooed on my back. “Life is not a dress rehearsal” it said. I guess I want to grab it with both hands. What do I want? I want to be happy. I want to make a difference. I want to be different. I do not want to bear my memories, I want to enjoy them. I need to make sure that I don’t sleep walk into the future and miss my life.
My third monologue. The biggest shock. Our most tragic. 2008 holds a dark June in Broome and Sydney. I cry. My thoughts, our thoughts are why? I could keep writing why for the rest of this paragraph and it would make sense to everybody. I don’t care about the how, I wonder at the why. The MyPOWER Team cries, the support network cries, everybody touched by the angel that was with us cries. I swear in June even the birds were crying. Why? Is life a serious of unfortunate events interspersed with moments of happiness? Or is life a series of happy moments dotted with painful events? It depends on your perspective. I want the latter.
A fourth dialogue with myself. Time has flown past. Busy, busy, busy. We have travelled far. Long days, short nights. I lay in my tent under the southern sky. Stars merge into more stars, the horizon is the only thing that stops them from engulfing my tent. I am amazed. I wonder how lucky I am. I want to know about where I come from. I want to learn about Greece and Cyprus. I want to see the northern sky for once. I am reading “The World Without Us”. The chapter I am reading is explaining to me how the eastern half of Cyprus has been abandoned for over 30 years since the Turkish invaded. That is where my mum was from. Her family’s house still sits there. Looted 30 years ago, lived in by strangers, probably crumbling to the ground. I want to see it. I want to know more.
My fifth and final monologue so far. I lay in my tent. I cry. Half the tears are sad, lame, selfish tears as I think about my stolen guitar and the stickers I have covered it in from around Australia. “Where the hell is Eucla?” one said, it was Meri’s birthday. Another “Karumba”, the picture of a barramundi reminds me of Ross and Don, our bad luck and our epic week at the gulf. Memories still in my head; tangibles gone. The other half of the tears are of happiness. Our Prius, beloved ‘Noodles’, with a smashed window, a bunch of our stuff stolen. 120kms down the road we sit in a semi-circle behind a service station on the gravel and talk for two hours. We laugh, we joke. Everything is alright because we are ok and together. I realise that I probably can’t deal with this stuff alone. I need an outlet, I need to be loud and rude and funny with the boys. It is my way of letting out steam. Steam built up after being pent up in a car all day. I wipe my eyes and pinch myself. Wake up to yourself, you are the luckiest guy in the world. Yes, I really believe I am.”
They are my five most vivid memories of my thoughts on this journey. Five minutes thought sessions that have stuck with me. This is my way of remembering these five moments. This is my way of letting myself go, getting it off my chest. I can hear three boys breathing deeply, almost snoring around me. They don’t know about these moments. Some things I need to keep to myself for a while. Before I can share I feel through them, I let them fall down, I pick them back up, I figure out if they are genuine. I have finally worked it out. These five moments are my truth from the MyPOWER journey.
Quote of the day
“ When in doubt, tell the truth.”
- Mark Twain