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The sweet smell of lemon and ginger wafted up my nostrils, the warmth of its brewed tea soothed my insides.
The healing energy of the wet grass rose up through my feet to massage away the pain in my calves brought about from an afternoon of bushwalking.
Hidden bluebirds sang to the cockatoos swooping from branch to branch of the trees swaying in the breeze. Smaller pied currawongs shot straight up in the air reaching the height of ultimate thrill before flipping over to dive bomb straight back down.
I envied their freedom. Taking off whenever they pleased to soar beside the cliff tops, and duck and weave between the gum trees.
There were no fences, buildings or smoggy air to obstruct them. Their highway was the Jamison Valley stretching for miles into the misty blue horizon before me.
Open and free.
It was sunset. The clouds covered the colours of the sky, but they did not remove the bliss of eternal peace and solitude.
Like a horse stumbling upon water in the desert, my soul slurped and guzzled in the silent stillness.
I sat on the veranda of my room at the Echoes Boutique Resort appreciating the panoramic beauty of the golden sandstone escarpments and rainforest covered valleys of the Blue Mountains.
In one minute I wanted to be like the birds without a care, and the next like the mountains, steadfast, present, never-changing, always perfect, magnetic and powerful.
If I sat and drank it in maybe I could be like them. I begged the sun to stay so my eyes could remain transfixed and my soul uplifted.
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