Space To Go Forwards
I recently flew to Mildura to spend a week at my parents’ house. Every time I visit rural Australia I succumb to its charm. The slowness sinks me into the corners of my seat. Time extends. No distractions. Space to pause, think, and reset.
It’s easier to release the self-judgement of doing nothing. Here, I can connect with the beauty in it. Dolce far niente.
Everything’s a ten-minute drive. Country waves. The search for the best pie in town. The feeling of the open sun shining through the window.
I can go where it’s only me. In nature, riverside next to the sunbathing shags.
It’s quiet. The only interruptions are the cackling kookaburras and custom Holdens.
Colours are different here. Rustic browns and sun-bleached tones coated with layers of dust.
When I stepped on the plane, I felt the city fatigue hit me. That moment when your body knows it can stop. It’s comforting to know these places are nearby to relax and check-in on yourself.
Take These Words and Go Forwards
My Dad and I have been reconnecting following two years of silence.
During the two-year separation, I felt waves of grief. Days like Father’s Day and Christmas were reminders of sadness. I had difficulty engaging in online content of loved ones with their families. Comparative feelings surfaced. I used suppression and distraction to pull me through.
I assured myself that this will change when it’s my turn to parent.
What makes this true?
How can I unconditionally love if I’m holding onto hate?
These questions were asked listening to Loyle Carner’s recent album ‘Hugo’.
"you can't hate the roots of the tree
And not hate the tree
So how can I hate my father
Without hating me?”- ‘Nobody Knows (Ladas Road)’ - Loyle Carner
Carner opened my mind to tune into lyrics. I resonate when he speaks about his mixed race, and vulnerabilities navigating masculinity and relationships. Snippets of his daily life weave into his tracks grounding his words into reality.
‘Hugo’ reveals Carner’s journey of reconnecting with his father. This struck my subconscious. I convinced myself to accept the separation with my father.
Seeing Loyle Carner for the first time last year, I remember experiencing brain fog. To see my favourite artist for the first time, I had to confront this blockage I created.
Across his set, Carner preached ‘Take These Words and Go Forwards’. It was written on his merch and repeated like a mantra. It echoed in my mind.
Forgiving my father wasn’t just for him. It was for me and everyone I care for. Letting go of the hate made room for love. Love for myself and the love I can give to others.
Within in a month of this concert, we broke our silence. One year on, we can now spend a whole week together under the same roof. We’ve reached the stage where our hangouts are no longer awkward. We leave each other feeling energised rather than depleted like leaving a heavy therapy session.
Our last time together, we walked in the bush for five hours. Just us. It was a healthy exchange of listening, sharing, and forging new habits.
After the walk, I shared a poem of us reconnecting since I went to Carner’s gig:
Through bright lights I see you.Numb, dark wintry night,disguising what's true.Every emotion expressed from home.In the crowd I find I wasn’t alone. Seats a sea of commonality.Nothing’s unique about a broken family.
From first play I’ve watched you grow. Albums, headlines, and now ‘Hugo’.Your words resonate deep to our bones. Pain and vulnerabilities pitched in low key baritones. Tough topics climb to the surface.Redefining masculinity in an act of service. I come to escape but have nowhere to flee. “You can’t hate the roots of the tree without hating the tree.So how can I hate my father without hating me?”
I accepted being another load in the cycle.Inspired, I realise my repetition is final.To move upstream, I must filter hate with love. Forgive you, forgive you, forgive you,and meet my ego with a shove.
One year on, I’ve taken these words to go forward.Speaking, sobered. Path altered. Once wayward.Now bolstered. 
