I am at the train station at Beenleigh, about to head into Brisbane city from where I will be catching the train to Rockhampton on route to our new place of residence, Yeppoon. Moving. New place, new house, new friends. Radha had taken an artist in residency position for a local private business where he will be creating their iconic (nor pressure) front signage.
We will be living onsite in a caravan, which I have been informed is bigger than our boat. But it’s not just the size that makes me unsure about caravans. They seem to me a little clunky, unnatural, a limbo between land and sea I guess you could say. Caravans try to be houses, but they’re not. Boats I feel comfortable with, especially ours. It definitely does not try to be a house. For example, the caravan has fridge but there is no plug in land power, so currently Radha has been juggling with generators to try and keep the fridge running and cold so the food doesn’t spoil. On our boat; no fridge so no disparity between how you would normally function in a land house and then adapting to function in a kind-of house, IE. caravan. Yes, a grey area, not a house, not a boat. Another exercise in adapting.
It is sobering when you think about the conditions that millions and millions of people live in this world, compared to such a first world observation and possible conundrum that I have made. The fact that refrigeration and constant electricity is even an option, or a stable house, or even the choice I have in my life to move. A pause for reflection. IN the developed world we crowd our lives to achieve comfort, be it physical, social, or economic comfort. Crowded and complex. In reflection adaptation is good. It reminds me not to try and find perfect comfort here, to not see this world as my permanent place of existence, and to cherish simplicity as it provides extra space in my life for yoga.
Speaking of simplicity, as I stood in line to have my baggage checked in at Roma Street Station for the tilt train, there was quite a bit of grumbling amongst the people lined up to wait as apparently this was taking far too long. There were two people behind a modest counter checking in baggage and putting baggage tags on. Then there were a couple of others loading the bags onto big yellow trolleys. For myself I was enjoying the experience as part of the reason I chose a train over plane was for a different creative experience, one that was not as high tech as the airport option. Unfortunately, if I was to train again the possibility of that experience would most likely be over as it was due to renovations that this was being carried out the way it was due to work being done at the station. And what was so great about this experience; no computer! Good old fashioned paper and pen, who would have thought. Good experience for my upcoming trip to Bohol, Philippines.
This trip also marks the start of my writing as an occupation, well my trial year. And yes I do feel some nerves in this regard as I have nothing else to hide behind, to stop me from writing. Now I need to work through the self-doubt and lack of ability freak blockages and work on my writing regardless, for if I don;t produce anything I can;t really be called a writer can I. I have been writing for three years completing my Bachelor of Arts in creative writing, but this is different now. This is unscheduled, free reign writing where I must create and meet my own deadlines. This marks the year of what I hope to be deep authorial growth. Please wish me luck.