This morning I went for my beach walk. I haven’t been on my morning ritual for a while and was chomping at the bit to top that stairwell and soak in the magnificence that is Cable Beach. My mornings have been otherwise consumed by sewing last minute touches for bespoke commission pieces, cleaning The Quarters, my accommodation business that is well booked at this time of the year and trying to rid a chest cold and cough that snuck in when I wasn’t looking. This morning though, I pledged myself the joy of getting back on that beach. It was a chilly morning (yes, Broome gets cool) so I put the car keys in the pocket of my hoodie, unravelled my earphones and listened to True Blue, that my iPhone shuffle so aptly played as I topped the stairwell over the beach. Ahhh that scene.
I headed off in my regular direction towards Gantheume point and quickly found myself immersed in the morning. My thoughts were racing and they were all over the place, from the sleeping arrangements of our apartment in New York to wondering where in the world my brother’s job has him travelling today and how white my legs look in the parade photos and other small world stuff. I had walked for about 30 minutes and hadn’t even looked into the ocean where I often see a beautiful family of sting ray or better still at this time of the year, whales. I noticed a golden ray of sunshine on the boats anchored off Gantheume point and then realised how far I had walked – almost too far to ensure I make it back home for a shower and to work on time. I quickly turned, annoyed at myself for not taking in the scene and instead thinking about how well my friends would sleep on the eve of my New York Fashion Week show. I couldn’t even remember what music had played in my ears. I love to jog up the stairwell at the end of each walk. Grabbing my pockets for the impending run, I froze in horror with the realisation that my pocket was empty and my keys were gone! House keys, car key, mail key, padlock keys, work keys, you name it. There was nothing in the pocket except a hole. I looked back up that long stretch of beach. I couldn’t even remember how far up I had walked. I ran back to my car in the hope I had lost them at the beginning of the walk; but nothing. Aware of the time and the hopeless task before me I headed back to the beach and embarked what I could only hope was a similar path to what I had walked this morning. Taking a deep breath I focused on the footprints in the sand and on each shell and rock that protruded from every ounce of beach. I couldn’t believe I had been so consumed with small world stuff that I didn’t hear or feel my keys fall through my pocket. Usually I notice the birds, the crabs and sea life, the boats anchored and heading out to the horizon and the cloud formations in the sky. This morning I didn’t even know where I had walked. I walked and scanned but after reaching the end point I thought I had made it to earlier, decided to turn home and while still searching for the keys, started to make some plans about what to do when I got back to my car, presuming my car would still be there. Scanning the beach and devising the plan, I had almost made it back to the stairs having done my hour walk a second time, when the red tag popped out of the sand in front of me. There, right in my trail, amongst the many foot prints of sand, on the big Cable Beach, was my full set of keys. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. I bounced up the stairs, turned towards the ocean and thanked the day. How was my luck? I couldn’t believe it.
My morning walks have always been my grounding. I have forever maintained the reason I can achieve the often ridiculous schedule of life events is because I spend the morning with the beach. Cable beach passed on a very clear message to me this morning and I took it on board. What was I doing sweating the small stuff? I was so consumed, even having sleepless nights by silly, petty, worries and thoughts when all the while I have much bigger fish to fry. This morning reminded me to focus.
In six weeks I will be flying over Cable Beach, out of Australia and over to New York Fashion Week where I will represent the country as the first Australian on the runway at the Helen Mills Event Space, Chelsea, New York; showcasing my millinery passion to the world.
I’m focused again, albeit with stiff legs and sore calf muscles.