12 months on.

A stiller Autumn night pauses the street, as crickets chirping to nature’s heartbeat is met by a subtle acoustic country track playing. A year has passed since the first blog, as new memories become stored to make our house a home. So, what have I learnt?

History will emerge

In the hallow halls of an old orphanage in Parramatta, the mood dulled down as the walls began to speak. A recollection from a partially explored article reminded me of my connection to this place. Meanwhile, Black Mary’s story guides the path along the Sydney route.

In Gloucester, my Grandfather’s old workplace has become a hardware store. Old photographs remind me of the hope here, the aspirations for a better life in support of family. Our history lives on, with time kept forever in these ancient lands.

Trust the process

The rush of the city streets often overtake my intuition, challenging me to find patience in the bustling streets or overcrowded concrete blocks. I find it easy to get caught up, noticing myself aspiring back to the fast cars and caffeine filled meeting lifestyles. Deep down I know I’m not geared that way, but the sirens and hustle enthralls me, demanding its place.

At home, things steadily play their role and mold to their place. It’s a different type of pace, but one I resonate with. Here, I can wait, persevere and reflect. The process is guiding me to where I need to be, taking me to places in the world I never thought possible, teaching me lessons unknown. From the streets of Jakarta, a stage in New Zealand or a conversation about future plans- it all adds up.

It’s so important to give back

My family are my biggest rockstars, taking the time to teach me, showing me how to act. As a child, I watched them hustle their way from nothing, only to lose it again and fight all over again. Despite having nothing at times, Mum and Dad always gave back. Always.

Being back home, I feel like it’s my duty to give back. Each chance an opportunity to break a stereotype, or have a chat with a bunch of old ladies who tell me about my Grandfather. Nothing makes me happier than to share what I can with those who make a difference bigger than me. With my parents willingness to give etched in my mind, I know to always give back.

Play like a kid

Taking time to skip rocks on the Barrington River, or playing a game as part of our board meeting for Intrepid Landcare, opened my eyes to the past. While here, at home, I am relaxed, my mind is often rambling about some crazy concept.

Spending time learning through play, focusing intently on a task of nothing or just fulling switching off in nature, makes a massive difference. I’ve found clarity in these times, now bombarded by our bouncing puppy.

Culture and family is everything

I am Worimi, a word firmly etched into the skin of my body, blood flowing in my veins and the sweetest Gloucester air filling my lungs. It’s who I am, why I live and my future. It’s the guidance for better tomorrows, the truth of troubled pasts and the reality of now. It’s always constant, always there.

Spending more time on country, more time with family, inspires the senses and mind. This is my world. Everything.

By God, I want to farm

Farming to me is a legacy, an act of passion built over time with common optimism. While I always want the mental stimulation gained from the city streets, out on the farm is where I see myself in the future. In the paddock, with nature, I belong.

Whether its back riding shotgun in the ute with Nan, at a show with Loryn, walking the paddocks in Nabiac with Dad or the optimistic dreams that inspire me at night, farming is why I exist.

The past twelve months has cemented some views, taught me lots and got me fired up for the future. All just part of this crazy Corporate Country life.

Hooroo, and until next week.

JG

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