Seeking nature as self-care and as a marker for self-care planning

This week I visited Kakadu National Park.  It was a reset, a marker for a personal and self-care plan aimed at redirecting some habits that don’t serve me towards ones that do.  I needed to get away.  I needed time by myself to reflect and adjust.  New environments and senses and places away from home can uplift.  An uplift can carry the momentum needed to maintain focus.  My greatest source of accountability is myself.  I needed time by myself.  

Sometimes people travel without making plans.  Some people go overseas with this approach – book a one-way ticket and arrive at the destination and go from there.  This time last year, and in the wet season, I went to Kakadu with my children.  The wet season is known to have fewer tourists, but we are all encouraged to visit because the experience is so different to other seasons.  Last year our first stop was the BowaliVisitor Centre and although many of the parts were closed due to COVID, there was a person to assist us with advice of what we could do.  On my trip, and as my first stop, the entire centre was closed.  There was no-one.  As I walked around it felt like a movie where I was at a place supposed to be bustling with people and movement but wasn’t, because of a pandemic.  A key difference to the movies is I was not filled with dread. 

The online Kakadu Access Report showed me where I could visit.  Initially, I had planned to stay overnight.  I wanted to go to Ubirr rock for a sunset.  It’s such an incredible place and there is so much to take in.  People take videos and pictures but it’s not a place where this technology works to reflect the experience.  The sensory of so much around – the colours and shapes and sounds and feelings – are 360 degrees and too much for any technology.  Even if technology advances and improves it cannot be the same, the body must be there and in presence.  In my mind and on my first day I would do a walk somewhere and then finish with a sunset at Ubirr, and then in the morning do another walk and return.  But Ubirr was closed, as was nearly all the sites in Kakadu.  So, I decided I would make it a one-day trip only and return late at night to my own bed.  The act of not booking accommodation or pre-planning served me well. 

The Nourlangie rock area had a few spots that was still open, so I decided to go there.

Nanguluwurr art site walk was my first stop.  It’s an easy 3.4km trail with a moderate uphill walk at the end.  An avid hiker reminded me earlier this year there is value in walking without any headphones or sounds to take it all in and just let your own thoughts happen.  I did this for the walk there.  It was a pleasant experience covering different terrain and with flowers and wildlife about. 

I liked how the track went up and down slightly, how the terrain shifted from hard ground to soft mud.  It was hot but there was a breeze and I could smell fire.  I wondered why this was so as everything was so green.  Amongst the greens and blues and whites and dark colours and reds of the ground different colours stand out.  This was so for the sap of trees and flowers and seeds.  A striking, blue butterfly flickered as it flew in a random pattern not far from the ground.  I didn't know at the time it would be the first of many different butterflies I would see that day.  I took a moment to try and capture it before moving on.    

I had my hiking boots and a day pack and it felt unusual as my main memory with these boots was hiking Jatbula trail with 18kg on my back and a highly challenging walk.  This memory made sense, so much of our movement is walking and with shoes and how they feel and what they represent can mean so much.  It was so green and there was something about approaching a large rock formation and after travelling for so long on flat country.  As I walked uphill at the end of the trail from stone to stone I was again reminded of parts of the Jatbula trail.

As I arrived I thought about how I had this place to myself.  Visitors often think about how things used to be, but we only imagine with our own worldviews.  I took a few moments to take in the site, to feel the temperature drop and how the breeze feels different in hot weather and when in shade.  Overhead the ledge extends out quite wide and so there is plenty of shade.  Standing in shade, the greenery of the landscape is stronger with the hot sun.  

Looking directly up can see how the ledge extends some distance

There were many jagged rocks cut in random directions, mostly horizontal but also diagonal in compressed layers of whites, pinks, yellows.  The art work was stunning, large pieces of the famous x-ray style and of different animals particularly fish and spirits.  Some of the spirits artwork was closer to the crevices and small caves.  These spirits and stories have meanings for young people with imaginations growing up, but they also have their own meanings for adults full of experiences and insight.  Sometimes these meanings or senses take time through our memories and experiences to permeate.  The figures painted on rock looked at you whilst nearby the dark shades and hidden parts of caves are unknown, mysterious.  The boardwalk for the Nanguluwurr art site extended across to about 4 areas and with different artworks and stories.  To take it all in you had to walk around to each one and read the billboards.  I thought about the different rocks that had fallen naturally and the shapes and contours and colours of the rocks, and how paintings covered different parts connected to certain spots.  I stayed for a while taking it in before walking back.  The return walk is always more brisk and to the point with a clear mission of getting there and clear focus.  

Next, I went to the Nourlangie (Burrungkuy) rock art site.  On the road I passed a Kakadu Parks vehicle, another tourist vehicle, small patches of fires at the side of the road and arrived at a completely empty carpark.  Described on the Parks Australia as a ‘must-stop on your journey through Kakadu’, the walks between and around large boulders and the side of Burrungkuy itself was incredible.  The first walking stop was a view across the plateau but only so high.  Then the path turned and across walking paths and boardwalks twisted in and out and between large boulders and shady areas.  These boulders had fallen from Burrungkuy over time and took their permanent place.  Some were massive and others small.  Even if you couldn’t see the large, originating rock formation, you could sense its presence and how the boulders were once attached to it.  

The artwork was incredible.  I was grateful to see art that could not be be reproduced or shared in any way (the signs shared warnings about this) – the original work preserved and as a permanent place that could only be seen and understood in the context it sits.  Again, your physical being needs to be there to take it all in.  I appreciated the billboards and the sharing of stories.  The descriptions of some of the spirits explained so much and I felt privilege to know this information.  It made sense of what the eye could see but not understand.  As I walked around I took in the landscape and shapes and spaces with the paths twisting and turning, and I mapped it in my mind. 

One special feature and place I came across first by hearing its sound.  The soft sounds of flowing water and a small waterfall meant that this valuable and nourishing resource, fresh water, was nearby.  The sound was distant, but what it represented appeared closer as a glistening reflection across a high standing wall.  As I looked up the sun reflected off the small stream flowing downwards.  The cascading water turned the rock into a dark colour and the same that can be seen from looking at Burrungkuy from far away.  The small waterfall could be heard further on but I couldn’t see it.  I stayed at this place for a short while before moving on.

        

The path crossed a short bridge and then went up to the Nawurlandja lookout.  From the top, I could see across the plains and to the plateau and all around.  The presence of the large rock formations both surrounding the lookout and also the many pillars and shapes was a powerful experience.  The billboard explained a very small part that could be seen from far away, and how it was connected to a story described in the paintings below.  I thought about the black markings on the rocks made over time by the water that trickles from the top and to the bottom to small streams and back out to the plains and rivers.  That I could experience this as the only person at that time was a privilege. 

My last stop was the Mirray (Mirrai) lookout walk, about 15 minutes drive from Burrungkuy.  The trees were high and there was plenty of shade.  Another empty car park.  The walk is 2 km and rated moderate to difficult.  It’s a consistent angle up the hill, a steep climb and enough to get the blood flowing and the heart rate up.  With high trees and shade if felt different and the start was still an angle but more horizontal.  The line went straight and the path narrowed.  There were small twists and turns before getting to the top.  The top boardwalk provided a 360° view that could be seen through trees with escarpments and rivers and floodplains far away.  I stayed for 20 minutes before walking back down and driving to Cooinda for a meal and to refuel.

Reflecting on the trip, it was awesome to cover 3 different sites that were close to each other.  The Sandstone walk connects two of the sites and is a 12km walk that I look forward to doing this year (on this occasion it was closed).  The idea of continuing to explore the area and take it in, and to connect places I’ve been to previously and in recent months, will I hope provide context for reflecting on space, time and memory.  A dry season visit this year will also serve as a timely marker for my personal and self-care plan. 

The art sites were located mostly in shady areas in caves and sides of large rock formations.  That sense of masking the sun and its heat was a powerful experience.  Nearly all locations had floating butterflies.  Most of the butterflies I saw were of different colours and shapes.  It started with the blue butterfly and in the sun away from shade, but I was surprised at how different they all were.  The floating butterfly in shady places reminded me of the Ampitheatre along the Jatbula trail.   

In the time being, I continue to reflect on the individual moments and places I saw and the senses and feelings.  The drive home was with a sunset in front of me and as the light and sky changes to darkness the drive across woodlands, wetlands, across bridges and changing landscapes makes the drive even more beautiful.  Close to Darwin, the small crevice of the moon was also in front.  I returned home at about 9 pm and it was a good sleep that night in my own bed.    

A road trip by myself meant I could play whatever I liked.  I gained value from some key insights of this interview between Dan Harris and Dr Tara Brach.  The resources needed to be safe when dealing with trauma, how wisdom and love interact, acknowledging and facing white supremacy, the gold within, striving to find a timeless and formless space were all messages that resonated.  I listened to The Lowe Post which I enjoy.  I listened to a lot of Nas songs.  I thought about his style and flow, his lyrical structure, the story-telling and meanings and mostly thought about his longevity and his messages in more recent work.  Many other artists from the 90s have faded but it must be his approach to self-care and wellbeing and growth that makes him part of a small pool of artists who continue to perform at a high level and create new content.  “Uh, musically I’m on Mars / Walkin’ all over the beat, puttin’ my feet on the stars” blasted from my car speakers, the start of another classic.  From all that I listened to, how could I incorporate some of the value in the way I approach my personal plan and self-care plan?

Visiting Kakadu National Park during during a pandemic outbreak meant I was by myself.  This is unfortunate and for me was also a privilege.  I was reminded the last time I had this experience at a magical place was when I visited Uluru around October 2020.  

Writing this post a few days later, I thought about a vivid dream I had this morning.  I don't often remember my dreams and I don't often have the intuition or self-confidence to try and unpack its meaning.  At home by myself, and as I was asleep, it was raining heavily.  I woke and could hear it above my head (the sound is loudest through that wall).  I could feel that it was a heavy, monsoon-like storm, the dense water nourishing the environment.  This made me happy.  In a dream-like state I saw a feather floating amongst the rain and unaffected by the turbulence and force of wind and storm.  It floated as if a soft wind was carrying it.  It felt peaceful and serene, something calm and blissful floating within chaos and heavy pelts of rain.  

Whilst this dream merged different memories and experiences as nearly all dreams do, it was nice that it did so in a way where it was peaceful and where my confusion did not create a sense of unease.  When I woke this morning, I thought about dreams and the confluence of messages.  Where did the image of a feather come from?  My main recall is the dreaming story where a spirit placed a feather represented by boulders that could be seen far away and as a reminder of the lesson of the story.  In my dream I did not think this lesson had meaning for me, it wasn't my story.  For me, the feather represented nature and another experience I had yesterday conceptualising what walking with nature meant, and being in the moment.  

Yesterday I listened to this episode of the Philosophise This podcast.  The website also has a transcript of the episode, here (and in which I'm grateful).  In my dream the feather represented what Dr Brach in the earlier podcast episode I referred to as 'timeless' and 'formless' (a state I don't properly understand and can only glimpse, because I haven't done the work).  For me, the dream and sense of ease was affirmation of the work I had done this year to put in place a personal and self-care plan, but also as a reminder of the continuing work and effort to better understand and appreciate.  The memory that led to this part of the dream was listening to the aspects of 'joy' (one of three skills - silence, obedience and joy written about by Kierkegaard), and especially what it means to be present in the moment.      

Whilst the full transcript or podcast is recommended to gain the full message, I found the following relevant as a snapshot:

Well it’s interesting...appealing to a secular minded person like our protagonist...Kierkegaard might ask: what’s a modern SECULAR version of going OUT INTO THE FIELDS to FIND part of yourself?

Sounds a LOT like what people are doing when they talk about going on a nature walk, or a hike or something.

Now, first thing maybe to say here is that this is OBVIOUSLY an incredibly dumb way of talking about nature. I mean, Nature walk? Like what you’re going on a pilgrimage to nature now? Hold on, so a bird builds a nest.. and THAT’S nature...but people make buildings and cities and that’s not nature? No, you ARE nature! When you DRIVE to the trail to go on a nature walk there’s no sign that says “Now Entering Nature”. This is an IMPORTANT POINT...because the VALUE... people are getting from what they might call a Nature walk...Kierkegaard would say might have more to do with moving AWAY from this realm up in our heads of human concerns that they’re otherwise serving a life sentence in.

THAT’S the REAL benefit of a nature walk. When they move AWAY from this realm of constant desires and projects...they start to feel CONNECTED to something ELSE...and they’ll describe this something else in a number of ways depending on the language they use: they may say they feel connected to something greater than themselves, to the universe, to nature, to God, to the GROUND of our being...whatever guarantees the continuity of existence from moment to moment, many different ways to think of it...but regardless of the terminology the individual person is appropriating to describe their experience here...this is a UNIVERSAL human experience...and the question we have to ask is: what is that thing... that they are connecting with that lies OUTSIDE the realm of human concern?

Talk about it in any way you want...but Kierkegaard is going to call this getting closer to God’s Kingdom. Now ON this hypothetical nature walk, although to Kierkegaard this can be found ANYWHERE...on this nature walk we move away from the temporal realm of human concern into something that more resembles a, sort of, eternal present. When we take a second to stop thinking about our projects in life and return to this type of immediacy...think of the lily that you might COME across on one of these walks.

Consider the fact that the lily of the field is never trying to be something that it’s not. It just sort of, IS... within its own environment. It doesn’t DESIRE TO BE anything OTHER than what it is, it doesn’t COMPARE itself to other lillies, it doesn’t make plans to blossom in the summertime.

The bird of the air... doesn’t have a 5 year plan and a vision board that it looks at every day. It doesn’t COMPARE its life to the life of a domesticated bird...The lily and the bird don’t sit around and ruminate on what might or might not happen to them, and BECAUSE OF THIS...they are removed from the noisy chaos OF that realm of human concern.

Noise. Good way to describe the realm of human concern sometimes. Chatter, meaningless talking, all different ways people describe it. What does the lily have on the nature walk that we DON’T have serving a life sentence in the realm of human concerns and projects? Well, what is the antidote to noise? Silence.