HAVE ALL MY STORIES BEEN TOLD?

I like to think that I don't have many fears. I've jumped from a plane, sat with a wild cheetah, held pythons... the list of "fear-testing" examples goes on. But the stories I have from experiences like these has developed into a fear of mine.

It may sound rather silly, but I'm sure one thing that truly scares me is having my stories grow old. My mind and heart are filled with stories of foreign countries, sunrises, wild animals, extreme experiences, finding friends, places of happiness and humor. Will these memories and moments become a burden to me? Will anyone listen to my stories? When I am old, will I be able to remember my own stories? Will I remember how I felt?

The real reason I've thought of this seemingly odd fear I have developed is because I constantly get asked the same question. One a have grown to despise: "What's new?" I used to enjoy that question because I would have many fresh stories to tell about recent experiences. Now, it's a guarantee that I can answer that question in one word rather than in a series of stories strung together. That word is: nothing.

In the last three months, literally nothing 'is new'. I drive to and from work each day. My excitement comes from passing the same guy on the highway each day before and after school. I get excited to come home before it's dark out. I look forward to cutting our jungle lawn. If I'm lucky, I might have time to watch a show on Netflix. 

This is my life now. I love my job, but as for a personal life, things are pretty bleak. It can't help that I live in a desolate town. Maybe it only seems this way as I have gone from one extreme (living in a city with four-point-some million people) to another (living in Saskatchewan). 

Whoops, let's get back on track here. My fear, ah yes. Another way I have discovered that this is a fear of mine are moments I have where it's a perfect time to tell a story. I can jump into that conversation with "that reminds me of when I was living in Melbourne and..." or "We did something similar to that in New Zealand..." Recently, I have found that those who are listening don't really seem to care. Perhaps I'm a bad story-teller or maybe the listeners find it hard to connect with my stories. Maybe I have already told them this story? Are they annoyed that I keep starting sentences with "This time in Australia"? I have suddenly developed a guilt and a bit of anxiety to tell my stories. I feel bad for sharing them instead of being excited and happy. I'm finding that I am keeping more of my stories to myself these days so that I don't have to feel the guilt of sharing or mask my distress of their disinterest. 

I have twenty-something years worth of stories. Even if no one wants to listen to my stories or briefly share in my experiences, the great thing is that I have had these experiences. My stories are special and unique. No one else has them. I won't let my stories be a burden. I will not fell guilty for sharing a story. I will enjoy the fact that at this moment, I can remember all my stories and they ways I felt through each story and experience. 

The most precious thing I have are all my stories. It's maybe all I have. Without my stories, what would I really have. I am so grateful to have all my stories. The fear of loosing my stories comes from the very fact that without my stories, I am nothing.

KIA ORA NEW ZEALAND!

My recent adventure to New Zealand was far better than anything I could have imagined! I think it's safe to say that I can now declare New Zealand my favourite place that I have ever been to, just don't tell Australia that! 

Our trip was unique because we got to travel, for the most part, with the same group of people for three weeks. We did nearly everything together and became fast friends. Now that we are back in Melbourne and all the others have continued on their own journeys, I have been reminded of a time just shy of a week ago, when a group of us were sitting around a table. Some of us were telling stories of our previous travels while others were chatting about their lives in their home countries. I remember thinking how great it is that all our unique stories brought us all together from places around the world. I felt so grateful that we had opportunity to come together and that for a few weeks, our stories were able to collide with each others. 

We travelled both the North and South Islands doing things that would test our courage! We dug our own hot springs, we abseiled thirty-five meters into a cave and explored the inner cave and it's glowworms for hours, we rafted over the largest rafted waterfall and took in the amazing Maori culture at the Tamaki Village. When it comes to the Maori culture, I can't think of anything more rich and rare. I absolutely loved it! We were silly enough to go mountain biking the day before our eight hour hike through the Tongaririo Alpine Crossings. That was a new definition for sore legs! We jumped out of a plane and luged down the side of a mountain and we hiked, climbed and walked and took in the amazing scenery of everything in between. 

New Zealand was filled with so many wonderful and crazy adventures. I threw together a video of our highlights and although it's nine minutes long, I just couldn't stand cutting any more footage out. (I  already cut it down from an hour and fifteen minutes!) By the way, this video caused me a lot of grief because just as I was putting the finishing touches on it, my computer decided that it didn't want to work any more. Long story short, this is actually the fourth video of it's kind. Nevertheless, it includes some highlights of the trip!