The last Colville age

With the beginning of the German winter, summer has replaced spring here, and the sun has actually replaced the rain as well. So with the persistent sunshine, my range of motion has expanded significantly.

It wasn't always easy to feel free, as people here fence off everything that can be fenced. As a born East German, I should actually be familiar with borders, fences, barbed wire, and walls, and it should evoke a sense of home, but somehow I have rarely felt so limited as here. But as an East German, it is probably in my genes to look beyond fenced off areas and to see the land as belonging less to individuals and more to the community. After the last unpleasant encounter with the shepherd, I had actually vowed to always politely ask for permission to pass through. But when suddenly a fence appeared in the middle of the forest and there was no shepherd or other visible owner in sight, my vow succumbed to my curiosity.

Once it got creepy after I crossed a fence on which, among other things, it was written that the owner wanted to shoot dogs when trespassing. Fortunately, I was not a dog. After about a kilometer, suddenly 5 abandoned old campervans, still equipped with equipment, stood on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Did I come across the trail of a serial killer who has something against backpackers? I painted colorful pictures in my mind, but then I shook myself vigorously and kept walking. And about another kilometer later, I heard strange noises. I approached, but luckily there was a fork in the road, so I didn't have to go directly to the house where the noises were coming from, but could walk past it. At first, I thought someone was listening to loud disco music. As I got closer to the house, the sounds became clearer and it was more like a monotone drumming, reminiscent of a ceremony. For a moment, I thought about checking it out. But I quickly dismissed that idea due to lack of courage, lack of support, my stay-at-home detective equipment meticulously collected from Mickey Mouse comics from days gone by, and the fact that I haven't watched enough Sherlock Holmes movies. On the way back, guided by my East German genes, I walked with increased caution to avoid being an easy target for self-defense devices, zigzagging to avoid possible snipers. When I arrived in the center, I immediately told the people living there. No one knew the forest area, and Tony chuckled at my thoughts. Susi also took me less seriously, which is why I tried to forget about it and transform my mistrustful thoughts into more human-friendly ones by convincing myself that it was probably just an auto dealer with little business acumen... although now, as I write, it starts to bother me again.

On another day, in another forest, at a crossroads, I met a couple. Going straight ahead led to a beach, and turning right led to a mountain. I am drawn to mountains, so I decided to go right. They asked me where I wanted to go, and I explained that I just wanted to explore the area. They said that turning right would lead to a dead end and that the only way to reach the mountain was to go straight ahead. I agreed and then came back a few days later and walked up the mountain that was NOT blocked off by a fence, and had a wonderful view... including a charming beach that I had never seen on any map before. It seems that Google only shades many areas here, where you can't see anything clearly. I was told that these are probably private properties, and Google lacks the rights to display these areas in detail. Well, now I know where I'll be walking next time. But to do that, I had to overcome another barrier, which was well worth it. I arrived at a truly paradisiacal beach with crystal-clear turquoise water and sheep grazing right on the beach... for a moment, I wished I were a sheep. I went for a swim, made myself comfortable, and enjoyed my new favorite spot. When I wanted to leave, suddenly a man on a quad bike approached me. It was the beach sheriff, and he was not very pleased with my visit. As expected, he said it was private property. I apologized and asked who I could ask for permission. This huge property apparently belongs to a wealthy man from Auckland who flies over by helicopter to vacation there. In the end, he was reconciled and we said goodbye politely. Unfortunately, in the excitement, I forgot to ask for the wealthy man's number. I told the story of the beach to Tony, the cook who lives here and cooks for the guests during retreats. He told me that he didn't know that beach and didn't know who I could ask for permission. About 10 days later, I told him that I would just go there again, cross the fence, and find someone on site to ask for permission. Suddenly, he offered to help and got me the owner's number. He also told me that they were nice and that he had been there many times... he had forgotten our conversation 10 days ago. I messaged the owner and he declined. I accepted my fate, but somehow it all seemed very suspicious to me.

What I now appreciate again is that in Austria or Switzerland, for example, you are allowed to use paths that run through fenced pastures, or that in Germany there are no paths where access is not granted. It's crazy how a person can simply declare a huge piece of land on our Mother Earth as their own because of their economic status. I once heard a lecture by a scientist who wanted to investigate when wars and violence arose among people. His result was that violence and aggression among people developed after they settled down and began to occupy and confiscate land. I can now understand this result better than ever =).

But since anger and aggression are one of the reasons for negative karma and health problems in Buddhism, I took three deep breaths and blew the anger and annoyance out of my right nostril, while inhaling compassion and loving-kindness through my left nostril. Maybe I even did it five times until my mind calmed down again.

However, this brings me to my next incredulous experience. During the holidays, there were occasional pujas with offerings here. The offerings consist of various foods donated/sacrificed by members, and at the end of the puja, they are distributed among the participants. These offerings were sometimes my only glimpse of light and motivation during such a puja, where I obediently followed the Tibetan chants and the English speed readings for 2 hours. One lady volunteered to divide the offerings into small bags for the participants towards the end of the puja. We were even allowed to taste them at the end, which I really liked. While cleaning up the room afterwards, I caught a glimpse of the bags of the other participants. And so, I discovered delicious Lindt Lindor balls, nut bars, and other goodies in the bag of the gracious lady, while I had to be content with dry biscuits and fruit. Wasn't greed one of the deadly sins? And justice was taught to me differently in Christianity. Suddenly, my entire recently acquired Buddhist worldview became somewhat relative again, reminding me that theory can differ from practice. In addition, I thought of a quote from my training supervisor from Würzburg who, during the welcoming speech for the new trainees for psychotherapy, repeatedly made a colleague and good friend of mine and me doubt his professionalism and humanity with his rather misanthropic statement: "Mensch ist ein Ratz" (Man is a rat). Did the man really mean it? I took three deep breaths, blew out the negative thoughts, breathed in compassion, and once again transformed my mindset: She probably acted in the best interest of others, sacrificing herself, as she assumed that no one liked Lindor balls and they were unhealthy as well.

Something I will remember fondly, on the other hand, is a bike trip with Kara, who lent me her bike. I had a day off and cycled around the tip of Coromandel. And the beauty of the landscape took my breath away several times, and my heart was filled with joy. Every effort after a hill was immediately rewarded with a stunning view. So I first rode over a hill to the west side, and from there to Port Charlson, past Sandy Bay and Stony Bay to Fletchers Beach, where I treated myself to a refreshing swim. Then I continued to Port Jackson, which is also a beautiful beach where many vacationers seek peace during the Christmas season. On the way back, I took a gravel road right along the coast, which led between the paddocks with cows and sheep and the crystal-clear, turquoise sea.

In such moments, I regret not bringing my camera with me, as I can't capture the images as well with my phone. Another moment where I regretted it was during the night. By now, I jump out of bed in the middle of the night without having to go to the toilet, to admire the incredibly clear and beautiful starry sky... which I will now have to try to store in my memory without a camera.

Susie took Sanne and me to her old community on Christmas, which is located right at Sandy Bay. It was nice, but unspectacular. They had a potluck, where everyone prepared food and then everything was offered as a buffet. The cooking and baking skills of those present are not worth mentioning, but it filled me up, and I was grateful for their hospitality. The highlight for me were the chicks that had just hatched 4 days ago, which were extremely trusting and sweet, and even fell asleep in my hand. Susie then told us a lot about the entire communities that exist here at the top of Coromandel. There is a musician community in Coville, the Buddhist center, which is also a kind of community, an artist community on the east side, a community that has a rule that there are no rules. This one is supposed to be more of a hippie and drug community, and then there is the one where we spent Christmas, which is not particularly specific. Otherwise, there was nothing reminiscent of Christmas on Christmas. I tried to make it a bit more Christmassy by baking cookies. So I baked cookies with some of my kilo of peanut butter. My idea was to make it more Christmassy (these are my favorite Christmas cookies that my mom used to make) and to exercise stimulus control for my affinity for this delicacy. Both only worked half-heartedly. The cookies were gone before Christmas, and three days later, Susie brought me 4 new kilogram jars of peanut butter (now I have a skill list 😉).

I spent New Year's Eve here sound asleep, like everyone else here.

And so, the time here is slowly coming to an end, and from January 7th, I will have a new place to stay in Gisborne, about 500km further south on the east side, right on the beach. There, I will do some gardening work again in exchange for lodging and meals, and in my free time, I wanted to try my hand at surfing. In addition, the Maori culture is more prominent in this region than in other parts of the country, and I hope to come into contact with it more and become more familiar with it.

It feels strange to break away again after such a long time and embark on a journey into a certain uncertainty. My comfort zone tells me to stay here, that I'm well off. I have everything and can relax. But the area beyond the comfort zone, also called the learning zone, also attracts me, and I am curious to see what awaits me there... it's all a matter of mood and the thought carousel that I try to tame and control.

I wish you a happy and healthy new year filled with moments of bliss.