I have been in New Zealand less than 3 days, enjoying the rest and refreshment of the start of my sabbatical. So far I’ve walked along the waterfront at Mangere Bridge and Herne Bay, wandered through the lush rainforests of the Waitakere Ranges, buried my feet in the warm black sands of Karekare, and splashed through the cool waters of the Tasman sea. I’ve tasted wines and dined sumptuously at the elegant wineries of Waiheke Island, enjoyed a lasagne with my cousin Nikki and a bottle of wine with the lovely Lois from Servants, and introduced (as you do) the president of ISPCAN to the past president of ISPID over a budget meal in a tacky Thai restaurant. And watched the sun rise gently over the lapping waters of Blockhouse Bay (nearly getting trapped by the incoming tide in the process).
And now I’m sitting with a cup of tea, my journal and my laptop, feeling totally relaxed and at peace with the world. Still.
Stillness is not so much an absence of activity as a presence of mind,
an attitude of heart.
It is breathing deeply of the vast sea air,
and gently savouring the intense aromas of a glass of Pinot Gris.
It is bending down to marvel at the diamond beauty of a raindrop
captured in the opened palm of a delicate plant,
and allowing your eyes to roam over the timeless expanse of the rich, deep rain forest.
It is appreciating the love expressed in a friend’s embrace,
and the pain of tears at a triggered memory of Helen.
It is joining in the laughter and fun of a meal shared with friends,
And sitting quietly before the solitary silence of a candle flame.
Beautiful