Seeking peace is an all too often lament I hear lately. The urban cities demand too much, the lifestyle is too driven, the need for space and tranquility, now a bucket list item. We need dates in the diary to meet up with friends, meet deadlines, plan… well… plan to find peace.
I hope you do, find the time. To make a plan to go to Africa.
Out in the bush, time means little. It’s an afterthought, a sighting of dawn and dusk, a meander to the watering hole, to sit, to dream, to catch a few rays and catch those thoughts you thought had escaped you. Time moves slowly when you wait for a sighting, for the fire to warm you around the boma. Time is measured by the game drive, the meals, the sundowner. It’s chilling time. And it is essential to find the time, to lose the time. In Africa, it is possible.
I had forgotten that feeling. Someone reminded me of it today. The feeling of time lost in beauty, in wildlife, in the rhythm of Africa. Going to make the time …