The Road to Cairns with mama
Navigating 2,000 + kilometers with my mother, a van, and the infinite possibilities of connection.
Reuniting with My Mother: A Surreal Beginning
Picking my mother up from Richmond station felt surreal, like seeing a piece of my old world collide with the new. She was glowing, embodying a love that only a mother can radiate. We hugged, and for a moment, the sheer joy of reuniting swept away any concerns about the journey ahead.
This wasn’t the first time my mother had visited me during my travels; she’d also come to Gran Canaria when I worked there. On both occasions, I was struck by the strangeness of having her step into these chapters of my life, where I was so far removed from the life we shared back home. It was comforting and disorienting all at once.
I had been in a deeply loving state toward the world and everything around me before she arrived, and this heightened awareness carried into our first days together. Yet, as we began our month-long journey in the van from Kurrajong to Cairns, that love was tested in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
The Challenges of Traveling Together
Traveling with my mother in the van was not as seamless as I’d imagined. Her desire for comfort—warm showers, planned stops, and well-organized meals—clashed with my minimalist, on-the-go approach. I had adapted to a lifestyle where quick meals, cold public showers, and parking wherever I could were the norm. She longed for the kind of camping experience that involved time and effort.
The tension between our travel styles became apparent quickly. We struggled to align, and the frustrations began to build. I felt trapped by my own expectations of how the trip should go, and she grappled with decision fatigue from the constant need to figure out where to go, eat, and sleep each day.
I journaled about my struggle: “I find it hard to connect to the things I enjoy and enjoy the things I’m doing. I’m trapping myself by reminding myself I’m not where I want to be.” The trip felt like a microcosm of life’s greater challenges—a lesson in letting go of control and embracing the reality in front of me.
The Wisdom of Letting Go
A conversation with my friend Bram reframed the experience. He reminded me, “This is the perfect opportunity to practice love because you’re working with someone who will love you no matter what.” That insight shifted my perspective entirely. This trip wasn’t just a road trip; it was a profound lesson in unconditional love, and my mother was the perfect person to teach it.
The wisdom of Alan Watts, whose book The Wisdom of Insecurity I was reading at the time, became another guiding light. Watts spoke of how words and concepts are only containers for the truths they represent. They point toward something deeper but can never fully capture it. This resonated with my journey—both literal and internal. The external challenges were just vessels, reflections of the work I needed to do within.
As we began to slow down and stay longer in each place, the tension eased. I took over some of the decisions to alleviate her mental load, and we started communicating more openly about what we needed. I began to see the trip as an opportunity to live the lessons I’d been preaching about love, presence, and acceptance.
Moments of Reflection and Connection
While the trip was primarily about navigating our relationship for me, there were moments of beauty and reflection that stood out. A sunrise in Byron Bay, framed by stormy clouds, reminded me of the impermanence of life and the importance of gratitude. A rainbow on the Sunshine Coast became a symbol of hope and renewal.
Yet, the most profound moments were internal. I reflected deeply on the idea that unresolved internal conflict inevitably spills into the external world: “If we cannot resolve the wars within ourselves, how can we expect those of the world to be resolved?” The frustrations I felt were rooted in my resistance to letting go of control and embracing the present moment.
Toward the end of the trip, the tension faded a bit. We had found a rhythm, and I could feel myself softening, letting go of expectations, and simply being present with her.
This journey wasn’t just about traveling from Kurrajong to Cairns; it was about traveling inward, learning to love more fully, and embracing the beauty of life as it unfolds. As I prepared to embark on the next chapter, I wrote: “Now it’s just me again. Alone, without compromises. I build my world so I can breathe.” It was a bittersweet conclusion to a journey that had taught me as much about the limits of love as its infinite possibilities.
The lessons I took from this experience—of patience, letting go, and embracing the present—will continue to shape the path ahead.
Philosophical Reflections
1. Unresolved Internal Conflict Creates External Conflict
The frustrations I experienced during the trip were a mirror of my internal struggle. By addressing the tension within myself—letting go of control and practicing acceptance—I was able to bring more peace to our external dynamic. The internal always informs the external; cultivating inner harmony is key to creating harmony in the world.
2. Words Are Just Containers
Inspired by Alan Watts, I came to see that words and concepts are merely boxes for the truths they point to. They cannot fully encapsulate the essence of an idea or experience. Similarly, the challenges of the trip were containers for deeper lessons in love, patience, and presence.
3. We Are All One
A reflection that struck me during this time was how deeply connected we all are: “Aren’t we always looking at reflections of ourselves? Like sonar, we exude energy and receive it back, altered by the energy of what it touches.” This understanding deepened my sense of connection to my mother and to the world around me, reminding me that every interaction is an opportunity to see ourselves more clearly.
4. Letting Go and Embracing Change
The only constant in life is change. Resistance creates tension, but letting go allows us to flow with life’s rhythm. This trip was a practice in embracing change and finding peace in the unpredictable nature of travel—and of relationships.
5. The Present Moment Is Enough
No matter how much I wanted to control or plan, the only reality was the present moment. By anchoring myself in mindfulness and gratitude, I was able to find beauty in the simplest things: a sunrise, a kind word, or a moment of stillness.