I grew up in Australia from the age of 14. It’s my home, the one I lost without a choice. It was stolen from me when I had to leave, as I’ve written about here before. I miss it every day, but it became so painful to miss, I had to make myself forget about it, so I could carry on, being grateful for the fact I was safe in England. But this is not where I choose to live. I’ve had to try and make the best of living in the UK. I believe I’ve done that, but it always hurts the way I miss Australia. It’s such a part of me. Some of my favourite places I carry within me. I spent a lot of time in the rainforest, walking, sitting, absorbing everything around me. It’s magical and wild. And it’s the wildness I miss the most. I absolutely long for that wild nature which exists in Australia. Yesterday I was thinking about it , imagining being there.
There are so many things I love about the Australian rain forest. It’s all encompassing, lush greenness stretches out to the canopy roof of glossy leaves. When I look up I can see only slivers of sky, waiting for the big, blue reveal when I finally emerge. There is a warm, heady moss smell from the damp, rich soil. The air vibrates with insects and bird song, the constant melody of the tropics. The path I walk on barefoot winds down to a waterfall and bathing pool, where I submerge my sweaty body in the cold pristine water, breathing a sigh of relief I am finally cool for a while. The water is very deep and dark. I wonder if there are snakes underneath me. Maybe. But I tell myself they do not want to come anywhere near me. I dog paddle in the fresh water, gazing up at the endless dark blue. It’s a glorious day. Whenever I enter the rainforest I feel held by it, like I’m special to it, but insignificant at the same time. It’s so old. Standing here for so long, long before me and hopefully long after me. This makes me feel safe, I feel very safe in here. I’m cocooned in the many shades of green, the darkness of the forest touched with beams of sunlight filtering through the trees. I feel like my secrets are known. These trees are ancient, beautiful beings. I love them, they tower above me, their sprawling roots stretching out along the earth. Huge hands holding strength and wisdom. Under these trees I am a playful child, not a troubled adult. I don’t have to pretend in this palace of nature. I can be as wild as the trees and as small as the beetles. There are so many creatures living in the forest. They are camouflaged, hidden in the denseness, where no one can find them. They watch from their safe place, unseen. I feel happy for them. Steamy humidity rises through the trees, up and out, to the golden sunlight streaming through the canopy. This is another world for me. I come here when I need to get away. I am transformed in the rainforest, given a state of mind beyond any cares and worries. I become small and safe within myself, imagining life to be as peaceful and as real as the trees in the earth. I never want to leave, so I stay as long as I can, walking, sitting, feeling lucky to be here. It’s so much bigger than me, strong, holding so much life. In here I feel accepted in a way I never feel with people. Often, I see lizards, animals I love and admire. The way they sit so still in the heat of the day, basking on rocks the colour of blood orange, then swiftly darting off through the undergrowth, rustling and shaking the leaves. Their disposition in the heat is stoic, they hold themselves like ancient relics. Are they real, or are they made of stone ? Fascinating creatures. Then there are the butterflies. Huge, turquoise, blue beauties floating in the heat, mesmerising me like a visual opiate. I could watch them all day, their gentle movement brings me into the moment, hopeful in my dreams. This is my favourite place and always a part of me.
So, I dream of the rainforest. My magical home. I will return to you one day, maybe not too long now.