My creativity is a product of diverse interests. Guided by curiosity. Like a slumdog I reflect on my experiences and draw connections.

I could be broken down in my 1990’s sierra. Do I;
Walk to the nearest town (about 5 minutes back. Let’s see... At 100km/h = 1.7 KM/m. times that by 5 minutes = 8.5 km walking with no water in baking heat...)
B) Spend a fortune on roadside assistance.
C) Stick my thumb in the air. 

I opted for option ‘C’.

It is fascinating to watch the faces of people driving past. Some are amused. Some not. - Like the like the highway patrol police officer. 

After roughly two hours, I was ready to call roadside, when someone pulled over in a clapped out white toyota van. A nice fellow with a bed in the back listening to what sounded like a 
podcast on christianity or something similar. Alarm bells were ringing but I made a judgment call to give the benefit of the doubt. Or maybe it was the heat stroke. I’m typing these words, 
so you know it worked out in the end. Although that was not the end.
I digress...
One sec, I’m hungry. Let me just see what’s in the fridge and I’ll be with you in a moment.
Hmm.. Milk, eggs, chili, kale. What can I do with kale? Chips? There’s some anchovies. Oh, and some slightly dry, or mature, should I say? Parmesan. 
There’s always onion and garlic. Okay... I’ll sautee the onion and garlic. While that’s happening, I’ll throw some pasta into boiling water, add the chilli to the pan add the kale, chopped anchovy bits parmesan and some butter for good measure. 
Voila!
C’est bon. 

Okay, sorry. Where were we? 

Oh yes, diverse interests...

I think about waves often. I surf, so naturally there’s ocean waves. The moments of contemplation that come with it. When you’re free from distractions, technology are bliss. But, I have found the more you think of waves, the more you notice them around 
you. In fact, they’re everywhere! 
They’re in the light we see. Imagine an ocean wave crashing on a beach. It’s far in the distance so you see the splash first. The sound waves traveling through the air waves, passing through our ears to be converted into a whole new electronic wave. Boom! 
The smell of the sea air pounded into the atmosphere drifts into our nostrils and through our synapses. 
Just as there are in our lives, there are many peaks and troughs throughout the life of an ocean wave, which starts it’s journey in a vast nothingness. It marches into a bay where it stands tall and proud for a brief moment before crumbling on the shores 
to die. Leading the way for waves to come and fade into the shores. 

Life is full of shortcuts and hacks. More and more, it’s designed to be easy. But where’s the fun in that? This is the business of storytelling after all. And no good story started with;
He got into his car, drove to a friend's holiday house for New Years, partied, and drove home. The saying rings true. It’s how you get there that counts. To be open and allow life to unfold in front of you. To embrace uncomfortable moments knowing that 
something might be waiting for you around the corner. Maybe it’s good? Or, maybe it’s a lesson. 
I believe that time pushes us forward. It’s unforgiving and won’t wait. Change is necessary, and if our backs are against the wall, our time will be fleeting. 
For as long as I can remember I’ve had an interest in weather systems. The energy that comes from a collision of two fronts. The smell of the trees opening up their pores, ready for the imminent deluge. At one point I thought I wanted to be a meteorologist. 

I love the process of making things sometimes with no clear idea of what the final result will look like. I let curiosity take the driver seat. I once recycled a broken surfboard to make a handplane for body surfing. Or in covid, as a way of 
holding onto my sanity I made olives from scratch and a backgammon board, casting leaves found on walks (within a 5 km radius) to form the triangles. Now, I just need to learn how to play. 
I learnt to be my own mechanic and managed to swap the engine in my car. Yes, the one that broke down. Hasn’t happened since though!

There’s a time I traveled to Fiji for work. This was my first time traveling overseas for work. I was staying at the Hilton and I already resonated with Figh. - Sorry, that movie "Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight? They're single-serving friends".                                                                             Wanting to get out, I decided to wander over to the port nearby and find somewhere for dinner. Just as I exited the hotel, I noticed a boat off to my left named ‘Elvis’. 
Naturally, I had to take a photo. As I do, I hear someone behind me. 
Bulla! How are you going?
It was one of the employees of the hotel who just finished his shift. My memory is foggy so we’ll call him Winston. 
Don’t go to the port, Winston said. Come to my village. My wife is making dinner. Slightly hesitantly I say yes. We pass through the town on foot and pick up some cava and a six-pack of rum n' coke on the way.
It’s in this village (owned by the resort, I might add) that I learn the power of community and of sharing. In Fiji, it’s customary not to have your own drink, but to open one and pass it around ceremoniously (this was pre-covid)  just as you would with cava. 
This makes me think back to a quote from one of my favourite movies where Alexander Supertramp says, "Happiness only real when shared." 
As I sat on the floor of this bamboo hut with Winston, his wife and brother in-law eating noodles with chicken skin and cassava leaf, I reflected on how little they had and how happy they were. The toilet was an outhouse that needed to be 
flushed with a bucket of water and the hut had one bedroom for, I believe the three of them. Later that night after a little more conversation, cava and rum n' coke Winston’s brother in-law Seru took me out clubbing for a little more action. 

In the Philippines, I learnt to be diligent while diving at 18 meters when I stopped receiving oxygen from my regulator. Or the experience taught me to be diligent, should I say.

I’ve learnt to push past fear. It’s been a long, slow process. I remember at a primary school dance there was a girl I had a crush on that wanted to grab my hand and in that moment I remember feeling so heavy. 
I couldn’t peel myself off the ground and felt so much shame afterwards. A shame that has propelled me forward into the unknown. Like, that one time I was camping. Sitting in front of the fire making breakfast, a guy came up to the campsite 
looking around the ground for a cone piece from a week or so prior. About an hour or so later his partner came and asked If I wanted to go abseiling with them. 
Umm... Ok!

I love camping for many reasons. To disconnect, to reconnect. But, also because it forces you to be decisive. To make decisions quickly where necessary and use what you have on hand in order to solve problems. 
I’m an observer.
Everyone has a story. Like a gift waiting to be unwrapped, it just takes the right person to listen. 
Flying over Alice Springs there is a sea of sameness. Driving through it however, there are undulations, dips and bends. Rocky outcrops, palm trees and freshwater creeks. 
Look deeper and you will find life.
Finally, I am a neurodivergent with ADHD. I was diagnosed as a child around 6 years old and was medicated for a couple years before stopping due to negative side effects. As I got older I would say that I had it as a child but I’ve come to realise it’s 
not something you simply grow out of. It’s something that for a lot of people is kept a secret. There can be shame or embarrassment around struggling with the things that might come naturally to others. I’ve heard people recommend 
hiding ADHD from employers.  Why hide it? Why perpetuate the shame? I may need to ask your name more than once but I will remember you. This industry requires divergent thinking and as it turns out I have just the thing. 
A warm bowl of kale and anchovy spaghetti.
                                                                                         Bon A’petit