Polyamorous

But for places….

Some photos from our current trip back to Western Australia at the end xx

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Have you ever felt polyamorous?

In love with two people at once?

Or maybe more?

And it’s part because they all tick different boxes, fulfill different desires and needs…

Part because they activate different parts of your own inner worlds, and create unique feedback loops with you so that you can be more self curious and explore your own expressions…

But mostly it’s simple.

Mostly it’s just because they have you feeling a certain way… and you like it.

I’m polyamorous, but, for places.

I can’t help it,

I arrive somewhere beautiful and each place reveals itself differently to me.

Some places have been a slow burn type of love.

The type that has me curious to know more.

Like I can taste the potential, I can see the life path clearly, and I just have to keep committing to the vision. That’s how it feels on the Sunshine Coast for me, tucked away in the Noosa hinterland. Exciting, beautiful, but a slower unfolding than I expected.

Enough to keep me there, enjoying the exploration, enough to make me want more- like a gentle tease… but not enough to have me go all in… there’s something missing.

I trust that the missing piece will find itself over time if I stay curious and stay committed.

That maybe - “time” is that missing piece…

Maybe that’s the irony of the deal,

If I commit first, and create a secure safety within the feedback loop… like saying “hey baby I’m not going anywhere, you can show yourself to me”…. Then maybe… I’ll see what I know is coming.

It reminds me of the beginnings of a new love, with lots of potential but still figuring each other out.

Early love.

Some are like a passionate love.

This was Bali for me.

A story likely similar to most expats who move to Bali.

I fell in love with the dance floor in the jungle.

The silence as bare feet enter the floor.

The crickets outside. The sound of the palm fronds kissing each other in the warm tropical breeze.

Moon lighting up the sky. The calm before the storm, like a breath hold of calm anticipation…

And then the DJ begins to slowly play

And bodies begin to slowly sway.

And within an hour

It’s hot, and it’s sweaty, and everyone is sort of half naked.

And there’s a group of women roaring like lions on the ground, and they are hot.

And there’s sweaty arms and jawlines and wild hair everywhere and you can feel the lifeforce pulsing through the space.

It’s addictive.

It’s a place that has you craving desire and self expression.

A place where I felt like I could be loud in who I was.

The food activated me, the people, the conversations.

But none of it felt sustainable. It was a hard and fast kind of love.

The sort where I knew it was good but I knew it wasn’t forever so I threw myself in deep.

And the broken heart of disconnect was just as intense.

It’s the quick, passionate, love, with hot sex but you wonder if you have the energy to sustain such intensity long term.

Some places are deep in a different sort of way.

Weaving in and out of our lives, having us plant seeds of memories over years.

That’s the south west of Western Australia for me.

My early childhood was filled with the smell of the smoke burning from the small bonfires in the paddocks of our farm.

The summer evenings over the western Australian bush.

The cows and the birds.

The eucalyptus trees.

Rustic fence posts and the sounds of the farm gates opening to sheep.

Waking up to ducks and geese and Guinea fowl racing to eat the chicken food.

I’d spend summers going down south to the little coastal towns filled with peppermint trees that my dad would pick a leaf from every time we walked past, crush it between two fingers and hold it to our nose so we would take a big breath of peppermint.

I do the same thing for Rafi now.

Funny how smells hold memories.

Then when we moved to one of these towns, 5 or so years ago,

It was a mix of the slow burn,

With nostalgic childhood memories of summers passed by scattered through.

There was a familiarity, but far enough away from Where I grew up for it to hold enough newness to feel like our own.

The south west for me is like an old lover that was always sweet, a flame that continues to be rekindled. Struggle to stay away but unsure if I want to stay… though they are Always there when needed….

It’s a safe and beautiful love. A simple one. A slow love.

Then there’s places that feel sorta kinda fun,

Like a one night stand.

The sort that feel like a good idea at the time but aren’t thought Through.

I think that’s how I’d feel if I moved to Tasmania.

It’s beautiful

And rugged ,

And breathes adventure into my lungs.

And in the spark of a moment

I feel as though I could say “fuck it” and go.

Find a beach shack in a coastal town,

Pour glasses of red wine and feel free for a moment…

But the morning after, as the coldest winter rolls in, I’d realise

It’s not quite for me.

A fun adventure

But not a forever,

I’m polyamorous for places because I genuinely cannot be in one place too long.

In the 5ish years Tul & I lived in the south west,

We moved 7 times.

I loved it. Until I had a child.

Then I really did not. (The moving, that is)

Then I really wanted to stay in one place.

I wanted my roots to grow and my life to slow down.

Here’s the thing

When I witness a young family with roots so deep in the ground where they are that nothing rocks them,

It triggers me - in a good way.

I feel my heart yearn for the stability.

I fantasize about spending multiple summers in the one home, multiple winters around that same fire.

Years and years of cooking in that same kitchen and waking up in that same bedroom.

I fantasize about Rafi’s height being measured against the laundry door and seeing “2022, 2023, 2024, 2025, 2026” rising up the doorframe as he grows.

I dream of building him a cubby house in the back yard, planting a garden that we will get to see grow.

Whenever I walk into the homes of my friends who’ve chosen where they are, I feel a beauty, it’s the little things they probably don’t see anymore, like the lineup of boots at the front door, half covered in spiderwebs. They’ve been there for a year. They are blind to them every time they walk in the house, but I think it’s sweet to see the boots that no longer fit the kids still there at the doorway, reminding those arriving that memories live here too.

I love to see people add to their homes, as their lives change and their homes expand alongside them.

Floor beds into bunk beds.

Teddies into posters.

Little cubby house into a tree fort and trampoline.

I crave that for my family often and the fulfillment that comes from crafting a home space, and collecting memories that are all anchored in the one special place.

For dinner parties, and children running around a bonfire.

For friends and community and birthing children all right there.

And just as I think,

Ok yes

That’s exactly what I want

Though then I get a surge of excitement towards

This idea of getting my little family on a plane

And flying to bali or Tulum or Thailand or anywhere really,

And embracing the fact that we are actually location independent. That because we can go anywhere then we may as well go!

To experience slow travel and world school our kids.

Meet other traveling families and experience a life on the road. Filled with fun and adventure, culture and learning in a whole different way.

For my children to smell the early smoke of the Balinese blessings and the rooster crowing in the middle of the Sandy street before everyone wakes up.

Or to experience a school like the green school for a term.

I’m tired of trying to seek clarity.

The

“Who should I settle down with”

The

“Who ticks the most boxes?”

I’m tired of trying to decide which season of our life we are in.

Is it easiest to be location independent now while we only have one child?

Or do we go be with family while my youngest 3 siblings are still at home? So Raf can grow up alongside his bloodlines.

It feels as though it’s been a constant pull within my body in different directions and as I wake up in a different mood, I want something different.

Right now, in this moment,

We are back in The south west of Western Australia for a hot second.

Visiting this old flame.

Walking our life we left but without the confidence we left it with.

Rafi’s older now,

And I think back to a year ago, and I was different.

I was coming off the back of 18 months of little sleep, and pretty intense driving anxiety. I couldn’t go further than 10 minutes from our house with Rafi in the car crying… and so I didn’t leave much.

I grew to resent where we were because of my lack of independence.

And I look back now and wonder how I did it?

The last week Rafi has been playing with his friends, tadpoling, riding a pony and climbing rocks at the beach.

We are in a different season now and he’s thriving here.

Lighting up around family and friends that are like a home to him.

It’s been so refreshing to be welcomed back with such loving arms of the people we care about.

To slot into the slow rustic life of the surfy towns by the ocean once again.

It’s a peaceful feeling.

I find myself wondering often, if we chose right by the three of us to leave to the other side of the country.

Yet in the same breath I find myself dreaming of the lush green rainforests, and the winter in my bikini down the beach with Rafi.

I am so excited to fly back and see our friends. There are new babies arriving and pivotal life moments blooming that become laced within the story of “home” when we look back five years from now.

These will be the early days and I trust that there will be a time where our roots are just as deep there as they are here.

I can’t help but wonder though… if there are creative ways for us to have it all.

Is there a way to have all our needs met?

Do I really have to be manogomous to just one place?

Is it possible to do 6 months there, and 3 months here, and leave some room for travel?

Would we still feel home and settled?

Or would it be too much.

I don’t know the answers,

Right now I’m deep in it all

But our cycle doesn’t feel complete.

We will fly back to the Sunshine Coast and let it fill us up again, drink in the beauty and the nourishment,

And simply remain open to life and the opportunities that come our way.

I don’t know for sure where we will be and what our life will feel like a year from now.

To some extent that excites me.

It means it’s entirely upto us

And there’s so much room for possibility.

And some days, it feels overwhelming as fck.

But I guess that’s the way this type of love is.

My heart exists in so many places.

And so many places hold me in return.

And I’m sure, there will be many more to come.

Here are some photos from our time in the south west over the last couple weeks