It is day 64 of the 92 days of our long service leave, time away from work desk and home. WOW, it seems like we have been away for longer than two months yet it seems like time has flown by. How does that happen. When I discovered dried up ink in the fountain pen (I have five) I went looking for this morning to draft this post (err yes, I do draft), I realised the journal in which to make sagacious camping/philosophical entries remains in an overhead locker of the caravan, new as the day I bought it. I imagined lazy days in our camp chairs pondering life’s conundrums and recording the findings, long-hand in my journal.
The digital journal is mostly up to date, recording daily activities, camping spots and our impressions along the way. Like the helpful nose-ringed youth at the garage in Hawker who turned us around to head in the right direction; Northern Territory liquor laws that require we present photo ID to purchase a bottle of wine whilst being overseen by a police officer; or the living conditions of our Indigenous people in remote areas – all these and more are recorded in the digital journal. At the end of each month the entries are printed in booklet form waiting for future months to join them. Traditionally these twelve sets of entries are bound, on New Year’s Day; a mindful way to close the door on the past. On the other hand, the hand-written journal entry, once written, is rarely revisited. Nonetheless, they have a place on the shelf alongside previous years.
Gazing at the Murray River and watching the pelican drift downstream, I realise we have slipped into a comfortable routine as we go about our pink and blue jobs on this road trip. There are no philosophical thoughts, and maybe holidays aren’t the place for such seriousness. Perhaps life isn’t about finding oneself, or the meaning of life, or anything else. Maybe it is about creating ourselves with the gifts and talents we have been blessed with. For now, it is enough to accept the handwritten journal is blank because we are in the process of remoulding ourselves in this latter season of our lives; a season of rich blessing and change.
There you have it my lovelies … from my chair in the sunshine on the riverbed.