Movement. I really need it. To stay still is to suffocate. Like a bird, I can’t live in a cage; no matter how lovely the view. And so it is that I today packed up camp. I have loved the fresh sea breezes and easy ways that are island life. But I have been still too long. I need to feel the air flow around me as I move from place to place. I long to lay my head in new surrounds and wake each day to a different soundtrack.
Sitting still makes me anxious. And anxiety triggers irrational and obsessive thoughts. A mole hill fast becomes a mountain. Not just a small one like Mt Tamborine, which is just 525m (1,722 feet) above sea level. Not even the Tetons in their grandeur. No. When my anxieties hit they have me scaling Denali and, if I don’t break the cycle of obsessive thought I am soon gripping the exposed South Face of Everest gasping for air and desperately grasping my sanity.
And that brings me back to movement and my itchy feet. I can’t seem to change the way anxiety makes me feel. It’s something I have struggled with all my life and is one of the reasons I’ve set off on this adventure. Because the only times when I’ve kept it at bay for any length of time have been when I’ve gone on camping adventures in the past. There’s something about being on the move and exploring new places that makes me feel centered. Just ten days now until I leave for the first stage of my adventure: a ten day motorbike trip to Central Queensland. In the meantime, I will load my tent, clothes and billy onto my motorbike and lay my head in a different place every night for the next fortnight. Sometimes camping and sometimes crashing with family or friends as I prepare to leave the city that’s been my home for over thirty years.