Journaling about being 'in the moment'

Energised by a conversation online and an inspirational person who showcases abstinence of alcohol through her posts, I set out this weekend to engage in an experience, journal it, and try my best to 'be in the moment'.  This blogpost is my journal entry.  

Mentally I've been on this path before, but for a much longer period (and wrote about it here and here).  Reflecting back, I never journaled the more detailed and individualised experiences.  If 'being in the moment' is a practice of deep and personal connection and reflection, I didn't leave a written mark.  During a time of no alcohol and in a place where the culture is rife with alcohol there was no 'on-paper' reflections of moments.  And if sobriety is assisted by an active and lived experience without the mind being influenced and altered by a substance, I didn't describe and transcribe it.  Long ago, and 6 months after quitting, I wrote that 'what I realised from quitting is that there is so much to life and its abundance that other interests can easily replace alcohol, so long as a kind of semi-dependency caused by years of use is overcome. Without the after-effects my mind and body is better without it'.  Here, I openly expressed 'other interests' but didn't go further.  

And so I'm back on this path of an inside desire to quit again, but also an awareness that the time is not right.  I'm almost there, but just can't bring myself to it.  There are factors in play that need to be sorted before that next step.  But because I'm also aware of the damage it brings, I can step on those stones and, this time, will write about and journal the moments.

Sunset pic taken not far from the LifeSaving Club, where the small creek runs down.  

9th April 2021   

This week I wasn't well and stayed home.  It meant my usual high-intensity workouts couldn't go ahead.  And so, at the end of the week, I went for a long walk.  In my mind, I would walk to Lee Point and see what happens from there.  I knew there were several tracks, including a long stretch right across to Dripstone cliffs.  But I had no pre-conceptions.  I mainly wanted to do some of the tracks that connect between Lee Point and the beach.  Although I've driven past this place for many years, I've never walked through there to really explore the terrain.  This was my occasion.

It started with a walk through the suburbs - a walk I've done many times before.  Muirhead is a northern suburb in Darwin unlike the ones I grew up with.  Most houses are not on stilts.  They don't have those wooden floors.  They don't appear to be designed for tropics because the design is similar to houses down south, but they're just as cool and these days in any house the air-con is often on.  The walk is picturesque and I was reminded of someone I bumped into only days before who talked about how in one particular park there should be more children because in the other there are many.  This suburb markets itself as a place for people to get out in the late afternoon and many do.  

As I was leaving the suburb I took this first pic.  These cycads are native and are scattered throughout.  I've tried to grow some but have not burnt the seeds (the seeds need to be burnt because that's how the country regenerates around here: a season of dryness and fires and regrowth and water).  The pattern was unusual compared to others in the area, and it stood out just on Lee Point.  

As I walked up Lee Point I saw several tracks to the right and of places I might check out later.  Google Maps or Earth could help with terrain.  If I kept going, I could reach Buffalo creek with its mangroves and mud; that's if people have made the track go this far.  

Lee Point has a stretch of road that elevates upwards slightly.  Lee Point beach is a place teenagers drive to.  Because it's a long stretch of road, it's a place where people accelerate.  I recalled times in my mind when accidents have occurred and there was tragedy.  As I get older, and having lived in Alice Springs and Darwin nearly all of my life, memories of tragedy and place build to where certain places hold certain stories.  The geography of these places are dotted across in my mind and in places where there is more trauma there are more dots: it's more intense; heavy; condensed.  As I walked past one part where the distance between the road and the side was thin because of a small bridge, a 'P' plater drove past with his friend and they sped up to well over the speed limit.  Teenagers.  It's almost always a given.  I turned my head to see them drive fast and off into the distant and back to the city.  No other cars or people were present.    

At the top of the elevation and on the horizon is the Arafura Sea.  Coming over a hill and seeing such a large body of water in contrast to all that is on land is always an awesome sight to see.  The track entrance is not far to the left and there are a couple of different mountain bike tracks mapped out on the signs: easy, medium and hard grade.  This is the area I hadn't been.  It was the place of leaving the suburbs and bitumen.  I felt relief starting to walk through the scrub but also uncertainty.  I was alone and dense scrub so close to the city should feel safe but being alone always creates a slight sense of unease.  Walking the bike track was fun.  The tracks start wide and the scrub woodland like.  At certain points there were junctions to other tracks.  I could hear the ocean but couldn't see it.  It started at the top of the hill and downwards on a slight slope and then suddenly dropped more steeply.  

The mountain bike tracks were designed to cater for this deceleration with twists and turns and bumps and landing points.  At some points roots from trees came across.  At some parts I had to be careful walking down as the bottom of my shoes slipped on the slope.  As I went down the surrounding bush changed and became more dense and the humidity lifted.  The scrub was less woodlike and more dense and green and lush.  My energy lifted as I left a place I was only in for a small time and going to a new place I hadn't been before, looking for the cross-section of a track I was familiar with.  The ocean sounds were strong and I thought of these same sounds everywhere the ocean meets land.  Hearing its power and not seeing it but knowing it's not too far away if I wanted to go there felt good.  

Upon meeting the main track going parallel to the beach I stayed a moment soaking it in and remembering when I was here last.  This was many years ago, a date and drinks on the beach and riding bikes home.  We rode so fast past this point because we jokingly said something was there chasing us.  I remembered going off-track to get to the beach, on the side was a fresh grave and a sign for a dog whose favourite beach and spot was there.  Along this stretch too I remembered concrete bunkers from the war time.  

And so I ventured left.  I was surprised by the concrete path, unnecessary along this area.  And then the track suddenly became narrow.  High grass was on each side encroaching onto the track.  I had to lean left and right and push the grass away.  My uneasiness increased because there was no space and I hadn't come across anyone yet.  I didn't know this track.  I kept going, and enjoyed how the landscape kept changing.  It's toward the end of the wet season, soon the rain will stop and this area will dry.  Rangers might burn it, or cut back the grass.  It will then be a totally different landscape to traverse.  I walked up a bit and came across a small creek, water still comes down this hill and travels in small creeks to the ocean.  The path was too deep in water to walk but the rocks to the side enough to step on.  I walked further through thick scrub and the track took a sharp left and back to the hill.  At parts I had to duck and weave the overgrowth.  And then the ground became hard again and wider.  

Again, this part looked different to before. It wasn't the same as the mountain bike paths.  The growth overhead was thick and trees were once again tall.  I was reminded of cooler climates and the pristine walks and forests of south.  My path crossed with two people and we said hello.  This part stretched for a while, small turns and then long tunnels.  I knew I had some way to go, and was open to where it could go.  I knew this track keeps going to Dripstone cliffs, but my mind wasn't settled on getting there.  

I thought of this area and the part to the left, between the track and back to Lee Point road.  Big signs adorn the road saying it's Commonwealth land and for trespassers to stay off.  It is fenced off.  I thought of what might be there, some harmful material to the earth.  At events across Darwin crowds will acknowledge Larrakia land but this sign says clearly it's not, and no Larrakia people are involved or consulted in its rules.  

I came across water still running down the hill and along the path.  Small creeks were everywhere.  It was humid and water brings life.  I was told when I was young and living in remote areas that running water can be a sign of safety to drink.  At these areas there were a few paperbark trees.  The bark and its colours are such a contrast to all the other vegetation.  It's a sign of water too.  

I thought of the many paperbarks scattered close together and at areas of water including in rural Darwin, Kakadu, et cetera.  It's special to see them close together and as a tree they have so many valuable uses.  The land became more flat and met with another track which turned back to the suburbs.  It felt as if this was a different place again, high grasses and some brown as if it's already dry season.  This grassy area reminded me of the entrance close to the round-about to Dripstone cliffs.  I walked on and felt I should be closer to a familiar area.  There was a sharp turn to the right a path I thought I had seen before.  A teenager on his bike road past as we crossed a small bridge.  

And suddenly we were in a different Territory altogether.  The mangrove system is intense and incredible.  Visually it's such a stunning array of greys, greens and shades.  I don't recall seeing the mangrove root system much growing up, but the boardwalks in Darwin in more recent years have opened this up.  The zig zags of roots and patterns against the backdrop of deep and intense mud remind me of the descriptions of various dynamics across the universe: large circular motions of isolated roots reaching down into the mud to get sustenance; roots that disappear and yet somehow find structure and strength to keep large trees up; life amongst the salty and otherwise uninhabitable terrain for other lifeforms; tunnels of thick vine like roots immersed amongst greys and with shoots of green leaf emerging; the place between high tide and low where fish as other forms of life come to hide and be away from predators.  It has a distinct smell.  Crabs and shellfish are known to inhabit this area.  Holes and tracks and signs of life are around.  

Up high there is much coverage and so the air is shady and cool but at the same time humid enough for a slight break of sweat.  If the body sweats to release water on the skin to enable it to cool from the breeze, this process won't occur here.  There is no breeze, only stillness.  The contrasts of green and grey become more pronounced.  It is the animals and tide which brings movement.  I walk past a group fishing in the creek bed and recognise one of the kids, he doesn't look up so I don't stop to say hello.  There is so much more to write about the mangroves, but for this walk and reflecting on it I'm appreciative to call this place home and a place where I can describe a moment.  This place stimulates so much thinking and creativity and is a place I appreciate.       

 Colour brings out the contrast but greyscale brings out the zig zag of roots and patterns

After the mangrove boardwalk is a short track that twirls around a few bends and then...

...a path towards the beach.  The first time I've seen the sun in full light since Lee Point Road.  I know this place.  I've been here before.  I don't recall the grass being this tall but last time it wasn't at the end of the wet season.  I used to walk through here when people were staying at home on lockdown because of the pandemic.  

At a different place and with the sun beaming it was time to put the hat and sunglasses back on.  It's only when I became separated that I bought two quality pairs of sunnys.  I wear them religiously and the world feels different.  It's a different mode to go walking.  

For the above pic, the sign ahead points an arrow further to the nude beach.  To the right is Sandy Creek, an awesome spot I'd like to return to soon.  For this walk I turned left again and up a little bit after the nude beach to go to the next part of the beach where clothes must be worn.  I had been here recently and the water was right up.  As I walked I looked forward to getting to the beach, again such a contrasting place to where I had been so far.  I had walked 7 km so far, and the beach is so special.  

The Darwin beaches have sunsets over water and the sky can be incredible.  I was looking forward to that feeling of finally meeting the sounds of waves and feeling the strong and cool breeze.  And I knew I would be at a place that I remember being at when I was really young, and with my family which was then complete.  The pic to the left includes the wooden planks in parallel and connected by chains: I remember this structure from many decades ago when I was just a kid.  

Walking along the beach was bliss.  I appreciate reflecting on this now and putting on a record, it helps consolidate my thinking and the experience.  I was eager to see how the sunset would go, I have seen so many in recent years I know not to judge until the actual event.  It is the back of the clouds that illuminate and it's the formation of the clouds that is key.  On cloudy days such as today the sun beams through only at certain times and I was fortunate that it did this on setting.  As I walked up the beach the wind was strong and it carried much of the sand across.  This recreated patterns to replace footprints.  Many people were along the beach, young and old, a group of teenagers, families, old couples.  I tried many angles to capture good pics.  There is more I can write here but I will leave a more detailed description of being on a beach to another time. 

During this walk I bumped into two people I know.  Earlier an old friend from Alice Springs with her kids and dog.  We stopped for a brief chat and talked about how fast time is flying.  Then on the top of the steps at Dripstone Cliff a friend from high school.  She had finished half of her jog and came to a spot where she says she reflects and takes a breather.  We talked about how we thought life got easier in terms of managing everything but that it felt like it didn't, and how important physical activity was to clear the mind.  I spoke about the Jatbula trail we had planned for later in the year.  We spoke for only a few minutes but it was good to reconnect and both silently enjoy the landscape and surrounds.  Place becomes etched because it is in our memories and as we age we build so many memories and it is the social connection and sense of place that builds and rebuilds.  It felt good to do this knowing that the last stretch was still some 2 km but it would be along a long concrete path across another suburb.  Upon returning home, and reflecting on the journey a few days later, I realised my walk surrounded Royal Darwin Hospital.  This is where I was born.  I was born when the hospital was newly built and mum says the elevators weren't working.  My walk for this blog circled this place.   

Much of what I've written about being in the moment is my environment.  Quitting drinking alcohol, it's the stimulation of the regular thinking of new observations.  This is part of being in the moment, but the other thoughts that occur is equally important.  I'm still practicing this part, to let go of those things that bother me, to shift my ways, to heal.  I've listened to, and been inspired by, some podcasts lately that have shed light for me: 'the potentially of a thought as a seed that can grow into a big tree', 'the be nothing, do nothing, etc.'.  During this walk I mainly listened to the formidable Doris Burke and Zac Lowe talk about the NBA, and I was appreciative of that.  One day I will walk with no sounds through headphones and practice 'being more in the moment'.  

As I wrote in 2009 'alcohol becomes a problem when relationships are harmed; when the amount of money spent dips too much into disposable income; when violence or abuse no matter how benign is dished out; when it is seen as an out to whatever personal or social problems persist'.     

Re-reading this now, I'm reminded how this is so true, and how over many years alcohol was a problem.  

* There's a piece I haven't included because of time and a sense that I wanted to get the description right.  Walking past Dripstone Middle School a group of Bush Stone Curlews were not too far away.  One called out and I managed to get some video.  I've often wanted to do this but it's hard because they are shy.  I've seen so many in recent weeks because I've walked right across Darwin.  They are on the coastline, in suburbs, in parks and everywhere.  At home they call out when I am asleep and when I am just lying there.