January 2025

It's interesting how quickly the mind forgets things. I find myself telling myself time and time again that I always want to remember specific moments in time. I try to find anchors which can bring be back to these memories, but even then, the memory fades and experiencing the memory again through my mind's eye is always less vivid than when I experienced it the first time. I guess this is but our reality. Editing this video brought me back to our first few months at St. Albans. One year on, our lives have changed, slowly but surely. Jan 2025 Deborah was someone I'd left behind awhile back without even realising it. She was energetic and passionate about starting a new life here -- gardening, marvelling at the weather, the garden, the sound of the wind, the rustling of the leaves of the large oak in the school next door, waking up to birdsong morning, and the depth of the quiet. Everything was a new experience. But as summer faded to fall, everything got quieter, the days got shorter. Life felt more tedious the longer I was away from being physically at work, facing hostility from colleagues who didn't know better, and the lack of community weighed on me like never before. Barn was frequently in school, and I was at home, on my own, for hours and days on end. It felt never-ending. My only respite were pole classes, but even then, community was hard to build in a place I didn't feel comfortable in. The kiwi accent is, to this day, one of the hardest English accents for me to understand. Likewise, it was difficult for them to understand when I spoke. After trying for abit and realising this, it just felt easier to be quiet. In the time since I edited my last video, summer has once again transitioned to fall. The trees started changing sometime in March and I could hardly believe it at first, it was still so warm. Now, most of the trees are either decked in stunning red foliage or entirely bare. It is slightly jarring to come to the realisation that last autumn was the first of New Zealand's autumns we'd lived through, yet this autumn will be our last. I still find myself in awe at the wonders of the changing of seasons, and the subtle (and not so subtle) shifts in our daily routine that follows the seasons. Watching the seasons change is like trying to hold water in your hand. It always comes too soon and for some reason, I don't want time to pass. I want to freeze this moment in time and dwell in it forever. The last year has felt as long as it has felt short. We made friends and had to say our goodbyes as quickly, communities were build and lost, all in the span of a half year or so. Nonetheless, it is for all those lives that have weaved in with mine, even if just briefly, that have made my experience here what it is today. It is strange to have the knowledge even coming into this season of life, that such seasons come to an end, and sometimes so insidiously that you don't see it happening. As we leave old seasons behind, everyone's lives branches out in so many different directions that once you leave, you never seem to know if you'll ever meet again -- incidentally far more stark here than back home. But, it is also because of how fleeting these moments in time are, that we learn to embrace them all the more.