I returned to Australia with a sense of contentedness. Definitely I had drunk my fill, yet over the coming months, as I slowly slipped back into old habits, I became aware of the need for constant movement; that to sit still was to stagnate. Yet within the confines of my day-to-day life there was a lack of inspiration. The ingrained structure and routine was a collective weight that seemed to hold me back.
For the first time in my life I experienced a sense that the lofty dreams of my high school years could easily fade into a forgotten past. This distressed me greatly. At school there had always been that, now absent, sense of progress, as the irresistible march of time turned the pages of a structured secondary school existence. But now I was free. Free, yes, but lost in a world of teeming ignorance. The joy and excitement of my time overseas was gradually replaced by confusion and uncertainty.
Something had to change. Fifteen months had passed since arriving back in Australia. My downward spiral was gaining momentum. It needed to be confronted and challenged. It was not something that could be planned or procrastinated. I knew that I needed to break the mould of my current existence and seek the beauty I was longing for. I needed to look within and call upon an adamantine will power and determination, but without a set path to follow and a means of harnessing and directing this energy, my life became a mad flurry of activity. There were times of disillusion and delight, happiness and helplessness, futility and fulfilment, yet the theme was always one of movement, of seeking something meaningful.