What Australia Taught Me

(5-minute read)

It’s been a week since I left Australia and headed into a month of hostels and Thai food.

For me, travel is about what we take with us – memories, photographs, knowledge, insight, perspective… it’s about unlearning and learning. The parts we don’t take with us are left deliberately, they’re skins we shed in our pursuit of growth.

Australia writes itself. It’s a place where eucalypts in their childhood dance like silver. The yellow grass, drained of winter, stretches in the morning light. Cities in the south take milk from plants and paint it with coffee, whilst those in the north forget the time. Life collides at the coast; the water is pulled to the land, and the helpless are pulled to the water.

We arrive over two centuries of boats and planes, and we cling to the edges, having silenced those who know their Country better.

As the forests burn and the riverbanks burst, a gentle song floats through the chaos, ‘Forgive us, we’ll try to do better’. These are just words, spoken too quietly. But a new generation is begging for change, and the chorus is growing powerful: ‘We must do better, the time is now’.

Australia is a place emerging from ashes and looking ahead. It’s a privilege to have been able to live there. I was able to shed, unlearn, learn, and grow.

I’m grateful to those who have encouraged me to unlearn and learn in the last few years: the passionate, stubborn men who taught me to have fire and to value my energy; the cheeky, intelligent women who gave me safety and joy; the queer folk who showed me how to bulldoze expectations with humour and music; the Turrbal, Yuggera, and Wurundjeri people whose deep connection with the land broadened my knowledge of Country, climate, and history; and my gorgeous partner, who never lets his standards drop.

The biggest lesson I’ll take with me as I step into my next chapter is this: passion is contagious.

I knew this when André Eikmeier told me, ‘We don’t have time to waste on people who refuse to listen; they can get with the program, or they can get left behind’ (this is a paraphrase he won’t appreciate as an avid objector of the semicolon).

I knew this when I asked Emma Koenig how she found such awesome clients and she answered: ‘If I want to work with them, I reach out to them and say so. I’ve emailed more than 100 potential clients this week!’.

I knew this on the first call I had with Natasha Ritz when she told me, ‘First and foremost, this book is for me. That’s why I’m able to write it so easily’.

Passion is contagious. I know this when I am surrounded by powerful voices, and I feel recharged.

In March, I’ll be returning to my small northern hometown in England. It’s a village wrapped in hills and tradition, so I struggle against stagnation there. Luckily, I’ll arrive reassured by my learnings: passion is contagious. Perhaps it is my turn to ignite the flame.