Chasing simplicity. Thoughts on being alive.

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Goodbye, Apollo.


After I found out my friend took her own life, my world went on. I’d eat my breakfast and go to work. I’d drive with the music on. I’d slammed my brakes too hard. My clothes looked perfect. I looked normal.

Inside me, joy vanished under a thick cloud of despair.

Amanda was tough. Smart. Driven.

But why?

The days that followed the news were completely forgettable, but for the restlessness that was at the helm of my ship. The seas were calm, but the tempest inside never subsided.

I looked for an easy way out. I kept busy. I worked and worked. I shopped. I disappeared down the Facebook vortex. I emerged and shopped some more.

Why?

Ten years ago, Amanda and I took trip together down the Great Ocean Road, staying in a cheap backpackers’ full of tanned carefree-looking young people. Through our bedroom window at night the stars shone brightly against the dark sky, not a single strand of stray urban light detracting from the stars’ beauty. The waves broke constantly, soothingly. We talked for hours about our life plans. We were excited. I felt hope growing inside me, the way a little seed extending its tiny roots through the dark earth.



Amanda was training to be an anaesthetist when she took her life.

At the very same time, I was deeply bogged down in the minutiae of my life. The business. The household. Paying off debts. Being a responsible adult.


When I meditated, thoughts arrived in droves, one as unsettled as the next.

I had the sudden urge to be in nature. Weekends after weekends I walked the local trails, my hiking boots struggled for footing against the rocks. The trees were bare in winter. The mud was deep. The Australian natives were yet to bloom.  Crisp cold air filled my lungs. Sadness lingered.


Weeks later, the feeling of numbness lifted. It left behind an imprint, the way heavy furnitures mark the carpet . It begs quietly- What is the best way to live one’s life?