Walking to the river I remember how my body knows this bush path - I just move - loco-mote - and I get there. I no longer need marks - visual sites to show me where to turn - I’m like the aboriginal inhabitants of that vast Australian continent - using song lines to guide me - moving at the pace of the song so I know where I am. And this song of the bush, the understory beneath the every day story is calling me again - to be with her - to listen - to feel.

It is a wonder to step into the cold waters of Ōhau - to breathe 4 x 4 slowly out, hold, slowly in, hold - until I relax and can feel the swishing of the cold currents around me. Then the stinging as I leave the river and warm up.

I can’t believe I have forgotten these rituals - of being in the bush, quietly listening and feeling.

They are not really forgotten - just asking for a return at this, the craziest time of the year - where for strange reason everything banks up behind the 25th of December and the levies overflow. At this time it is time to begin to bring my body back to bush - to quiet - to a deep interior knowing about what to do next - an intuition that I want to lead with in 2025 more and more.

So welcome silence, welcome bare feet and sandflies, welcome cool, quiet forest and rushing water falling - welcome soul - back to itself and its natural way of being.