After an exhausting day of flights and a nervous drive from the Gold Coast in Queensland to beautiful Byron Bay in northern New South Wales, a drenching rain greets me just as I turn off the engine.
I hop out of the car opening my arms to the sky, like the petals of the water lily, letting the huge drops fall onto me.
As if for survival.
It feels so delicious after months of bushfire and fire watch in the driest summer on record in South Australia – inhaling smoke, charcoal and dust.
For me, rainfall is so rare and precious in the Murray Mallee, I can count the days it rains each year on my fingers. I am in awe of how much and how often it drops in the northern tropics of Australia. Byron receives up to 200mm of rainfall a month in summer, making the green landscape, humidity and calm evoked by such a climate feel like the ultimate healing medicine.
I can finally breathe.
A combination of the heat keeping my skin pores open to the regular showers and evening falls encourages the water to seep in so deeply that it affects my psyche. Because, as well as relaxing my lungs after months of coughing and asthma, my emotions finally settle. The constant mild tremor of panic is replaced by the joy of a pulsating rainforest: the protective cocoon of rain and overhanging leaves; the gorgeous squawking of exotic birds and insects; and the orchestra of cicadas.
=Q=
It takes a few days to find a routine. My body unwinds and tense muscles slowly soften. My face frozen in frown for so long starts to rise north and smile at the littlest things. It feels so good to focus on play instead of drama. Even the heels of my feet feel smoother, my pace is slightly slower and lighter; and my hair kinks into lovely soft curls (instead of frizz).
After feeling so betrayed by Mother Nature in December, my body starts to lean into forgiveness. I am opening up to her lovely side: the oceanscapes and salty air; the water droplets resting on every leaf of every plant; the rolling hills with the cattle free to graze and slumber; the divinity of nutritious foods grown here; happy people cycling and sharing story and playing music and healing each other; barefoot li’l tackers creating a rainbow of smiles; the Beauty of every living thing.
I see that some inflammation in my face, hands and torso have gone down: the complexity of more moisture in the air meaning less fluid in the body. I stretch my limbs so I walk with a touch more flowing stride than stiffness. I sit still on the deck and concentrate on breathing deeply then letting the air go, instead of holding it in. I sleep without fear of fire and listen to every drop of rain with utter gratitude.
I recognise where I belong in this world again.
Opening the body to Mother Nature … like a water lily in a pond.
Warmest, Renee
Disclaimer: this blog post is intended as a beautiful and thought-provoking article for entertainment purposes only. It does not constitute medical advice and cannot substitute for medical care. No representations are made as to the completeness of any information and the author is not liable for any losses, injuries or damages from the use of this information.
