Where Values become Dreams
There’s a lot of energy around values right now. For me anyway. How much do you value your job, your shelter (as your home), your life…and even your death? I know I value love and connection along with wisdom and contentedness up there as some of my most prized values. And that love doesn’t flow any thicker than when it comes to ‘my boys’.
So when I was presented with the prospect of hitting fifty, without a second thought I started manoeuvring things in a shameless act of self serving my highest intentions - my values. The idea being that people would either pity or celebrate this milestone enough for them to step aside The Crystal Voyager and relinquish their ties to maintaining the status quo of concepts like ‘work’ and ‘childhood education’. The boys and I, and Indi the pup, thought these things could be easily accomplished in the desert on the edge of the Southern Ocean half way across the Great Australian Bight.
After 3 days on the road, Indi exploded out of her big brothers swag on the first morning of waking up in the desert….and fled for her life into the darkness. Quite possibly never to be seen again. Shit. Not good. Hours later and still waiting for the full light of day, her eye’s danced like headlights of a rally car out of control, before she pit stopped for less than seconds to let me know she was the happiest desert dog alive. For three weeks she didn’t stop.
Arlo was next, and like Indi, he was straight into desert mode. We let his brothers sleep off their road trip junk food hangovers while we jumped on the pushies and started smashing down dusty tracks. This exploration was endless for us both, and for me one of the most beautiful times I’ve had as a dad.
The waves were sick. And manageable for the boys, from 1’ peelers running the length of an olympic swimming pool for Arlo, to a couple of slabs for Marlz to refine his pig dog approach. All three boys thrived in the water, and for me being out there with them and calling them into some of the best waves of their life is as good as it gets.
It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns though. Before the rainbow and the pots of gold was one of the best storm events I’ve experienced since Portugal was declared a National Disaster Zone in 1998. With no land to buffer the deep low pressure systems, the onslaught of piss pouring rain and gale force winds cycled through left right combo’s for 36 hours. We were knocked on our asses with a collapsed gazebo pinning us down, but we remained vigilant and held the glimmer of hope that the storm shall pass. Back to rainbows, sunshine, overhead barrels, fire pits, and more laughs…like it never happened! The second storm that hit shortly after autumn officially turned to winter was a testimony to our recently rehearsed survival skills. We came through it with flying colours.
Back to the old value system, we all thrived in the limitless horizons of space and time there. The bike rides and walks without destination spoke volumes to the lives we live otherwise constantly bound by deadlines or productivity schedules. The love and open heartedness I felt for my boys, our friends, in fact all the amazing people who’s paths we crossed, was as unconditional as the environment that embraced us. The outdoor education system more than trumped any institutional brick building agenda the boys are subjected to otherwise.
And no one got hurt! No wheels flew off. No angry locals, no snake bites, no food poisoning. Just red dusty feral kids and their dad, alongside a bunch of other legends living life to the fullest. Bound by joy and vitality, and awash with the oceans pure goodness. All stuff that’s as valuable as it gets.
