New Zealand’s South Island envelops you in a delicious anonymity that the rest of the world has been denying me; keeping it to itself like a secret. Right from the very beginning, this trip felt like an escape from the inevitable conformities of the 9 to 5 life, and finally, over six months and twenty thousand kilometres, as far away from my home as I could possibly be, I feel released.
It is autumn, my favourite season. My artist’s eyes greedily absorb the warmth that speckles the landscape; a perfect palette of luscious green painted with gold, ochre, orange, yellow and every shade of red – red like wine; like blood; like the ripest cherries waiting to be plucked; devoured; savoured.
The mountains rise up to meet you, looming around every wind in the road with incredible presence. We pass lone houses nestled amongst them, surrounded by nothing other than the rugged, beautiful expanse that reaches as far as the eye can see. I wonder about the lives contained within their walls; envy the enormity of their escape in relevance to mine, their desolate existence. Wonder if there is loneliness in their isolation. Try to imagine that life, free from the constraints of ambition and purpose; wonder if I could embrace it or will the desire to “be somebody” permanently bind me to the big-city life? From time to time my anxieties about life find their way to the surface of my consciousness and freak me out a little bit. But here, more than anywhere else, I have the space to mull them over; contemplate possibilities; entertain dreams.
An afternoon spent at Wharariki Beach feels like a journey to the ends of the earth. It is like no other beach I have ever seen. The bay encloses you; surrounds you with its rolling green hills, soft white dunes and wild, mountainous terrain. Here is a place I can confide in the sea, ask the questions I fear falling on human ears. Like a patient psychiatrist, it listens, understands, never interjects; forces you to find the answers in the asking. The sky is blue, the air fresh and cold, and every breath feels like a burst of life seeping into gasping lungs. The sun and wind whip my face with menace, as if in vengeance for invading the exquisite privacy of this place; but I don’t care. This is my paradise; this perfect beach; alone, but for the man who I have chosen to have by my side.
Here, at the earth’s edge, I feel unfathomably small; insignificant; anonymous. And now it seems that maybe this is what I was searching for all along. After so many years spent working, stressing, fighting, grasping, hurting, striving – to be the best, but always falling short – thriving on success, feeding on it, needing it, crumbling without it. Suddenly, none of it seems to matter anymore. Though it may be only for a fleeting moment, in this moment, every success and failure pales into insignificance when enclosed – confronted - by the extraordinary vastness that surrounds us. Finally you can stop; relax. Breathe.
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