There’s a strange thing that comes over me in the bush.
As someone who notes down the running commentary that goes on in my head on a regular basis I feel pulled toward documenting the most memorable moments of my life. Moments that are so vivd in my memory. Memories of my time spent in the African bushveld.
Because I write whenever I am overcome with feelings … life, mind-altering, soul-expanding experiences I am shocked to page through my numerous journals that I took with me whilst in game reserves in South Africa and find near-empty pages.
Lists of sightings. Various species. Numbers and dates. That’s it.
I’ve spent up to two weeks at a time in the bush, blessed to have embraced my love of the wild and discovered volunteer projects which monitor endangered species. I have reams and reams of photos and video footage. Yet, this self-proclaimed writer, wrote close to nothing at all.
Why is it that the bush envelopes me in such stillness? I suppose absorption is stillness, being so fully immersed in your surroundings and so tuned into the present moment, there was nothing to say. Just awe. Complete awe in gratitude, the amazed bewilderment of the immensity of life that surrounds you. The anticipation of the surprises around every corner.
There is no space for any time but the present, basking in what is or what has just been witnesses. The thrill of the chase. And chance. The strain of your game-spotting eyes; seeing a rhino in every rock and a cheetah in every tree trunk. And the unmatched high of YOUR absolute PURE luck.
The depth of the sleep fallen into after a bumpy nine hours on the back of a 4×4 to waking up to another sunrise, simply to do it all over again. Knowing nothing will be the same.
Oh, I know why I never wrote.
‘Cause is all etched so deeply, right here in my heart.