Dances with Wombats.

As a spacecraft re-enters the earth’s atmosphere it experiences heat and resistance at extreme levels. Traveling at hypersonic speeds it’s hard to believe these modern marvels survive the trauma and stay in one piece.

In this metaphor I am the spacecraft returning to cell reception, first world problems and inconsequential drama that worry us all on a daily basis.

For the past five days I’ve been trekking through the Tasmanian wilderness with a close friend experiencing nature at its finest and dealing with a form of digital cold turkey, blissfully unaware of what the RBA decided, which horse won and the constant newsfeed that invades our piece of mind.

It’s a curious paradox, working six days a week to be able to afford the freedom to live without life’s little luxuries for just a short moment in time.

Narrowing your focus onto making simple decisions like where to step, where to camp and which dehydrated meal to eat stretches time and really forces one to re-evaluate.

Last night under the stars I shared a meal with tired strangers from across the globe, instant coffee being exchanged for sweets…all the while busy little critters like echidnas and wombats feeding around us at last light…all in our very own backyard.

Looking forward to getting back to it, hard to believe there are only 52 days left in the year.

Until next week,

David Murphy