continued confessions from a mountain cabin dweller

Good Morning from under a sparkling sky in Wānaka New Zealand.
I hope you’ve been fully immersing yourself in time with loved ones and
doing what lights you up.
At the end of the day this is the most important thing.
And stars.

Thank you for showing up and taking the time to read
as we all weave our way through
Life’s joys and sorrows.

Morning run. Gladstone Track, Lake Hāwea 23rd January 2026, 8.13a.m.

I am fully alive
as I mentioned in my last post
albeit my feathers a little ruffled.

The last 2 years have been a washing cycle on fast spin, in one of those old machines that moves itself out from the wall, shaking and thundering, a helicopter taking off in your laundry, tangling sheets, sending your socks into places from which they never return, before finally shuddering to a stop, and a series of warning beep beep beeps.

For those who don’t know
I have been on a journey. An unexpected one. Apparently they are the most rewarding ones.
I had so many other things I was going to be doing instead…
like a yoga retreat in Bali with green juices, massage, and ocean plunges
like a Vipassana retreat in India where it would suit me just fine to stop talking, stop explaining, just be with it all. yes of course I could do it…
but most of all I would be doing a Home retreat in Wānaka.
Simply Living Normal Everyday Life.

Morning run. Gladstone Track, Lake Hāwea 23rd January 2026, 8.16a.m.

As you know I have been trying to rebuild a nest for nearly 3 years after ours fell out of the tree. As a result I’ve been living in Tiny Homes and Mountain cabins for the last 18 months. Oh yes it sounds very romantic doesn’t it. Isn’t that what every writer wants? A mountain cabin! And yes, it is Glorious sitting here as dawn becomes, a pink bloom right now over the mountains, fingers tapping away at my keyboard.
It’s a very small part of the puzzle though. Like a side of broccoli, great nutrients and good for the soul, but in need of something more substantial on the plate. ie a home that can house my kids when they’re home for 5 months of the year, a home that has a bathroom and kitchen and laundry, ideally all under the same roof. Simple, beautiful, family, Home.

Home should always be here. Whatever age or stage we are at.
I would rather like to fold my wings, and curl up in that nest with my loved ones by my side.
Home is Everything. Our retreat, our launching pad, our sanctuary.
A solid base from which we can take off and Fly.

This story that I tell myself, that I tell you dear reader, I edit every day. I see that how we tell our story defines our life. When I re read both my published and non published writing I see that some days the Story is full of mournful self pity, often it’s self depreciating, occasionally humorous, sometimes courageous, regularly despondent and equally as often full of awe and joy. The beauty of writing every day is you can see how you think. You become very aware of the story you tell yourself.

I needed to write, to express myself through written language not only so that others might hear me… but so that I could hear myself. Gabor Maté

All versions of my story are true. This is my confessional for today.

Morning run, Upper Clutha River Track, Wānaka. 29th January 2026, 9.34a.m.

My skin has been cured by the sun and weather.
A base of growing up on North Shore beaches with a sun protection of Tropical Oil SPF 2 has been further lizard-ised by living an outside kind of life.
Toilet, washing powder, washing machine, pantry items, bed, all in separate locations, accessed by wanderings over grass and stones, dust and mud
all under a big bright sun or refreshingly drenching rain.
I am guided at night by the stars as I walk half asleep to the loo outside or as previously confessed - my little grassy patch.
If I’m lucky Thunder and Lightening electrify me as I walk to the container, further down the property, just to get the soy sauce. There is only so much you can fit in a tiny house kitchen drawer.

Sometimes I can’t open the tiny house front door when that nor wester from the Matukituki is blowing a gale.
It’s a battle: Jo vs Door
A pull and a push
the ultimate in metaphor confrontation,
standing outside looking in
unable to open the door to get inside Home.
Often the wind blows my coffee right out of the cup when walking from the kitchen to the cabin
I know I know Wind, I should cut down.
Luckily I am a nature and all weather lover and
this “curing” can be somewhat exhilarating and empowering.
Sometimes though, it’s fucking exhausting.
Appreciate your laundry dear people. It’s the simple things.

On the Journey,
I have got a few more piercings. I can see how it could become addictive.
There’s something about choosing pain and making it look pretty and sparkly.

Mountain Flower joy, Mt Grandview (1398m), Hāwea. 14th January 2026, 11.14a.m

On the Journey
I went to church.
It was the stained glass windows that did it
I was blinded
by the Light.
The ever so kind priest who was looking rather handsome in a tight fitting hand knitted jersey actually offered me a glass of wine!
And it was only 10.30 in the morning! I know right!
I don’t drink much any more so I turned him down
but did surreptitiously leave an alcoholics anonymous card on a
musty cushion.
They were lovely and welcoming in there. We even did a book interpretation! Which you probably know is right up my alley.
I was the chosen one
to read a passage from
the book
so I stood up and began to move towards the mic and the pulpit
but was told to stay in the circle.
My interpretation of Jezebel and Delilah appeared to be different to those there. But that’s ok. Difference is welcomed here isn’t it? All loved. All welcomed and All that....
Anyway I left before they asked me for money and returned to the life work of finding the power within
I reckon I saw some Light shining in there
but we can sure all do with some help to uncover it sometimes.

Let there be Light.
Raindrops on Summer Grass. Hāwea. 23rd January 2026, 8.18a.m.

I then turned to sound healing, kundalini movement
and slapping of my own bottom.
This was bloody liberating.
It’s very important to be able to laugh at yourself on your journey. And as I float above myself and look down upon myself sitting there cross legged trying to chant in Sanskrit and get my hand movements in sync with the rest of the class I see all that Life is in that moment and how we just have to fucking fully immerse ourselves because there is no other way and
because Life is both utterly terrifying and utterly Amazing.
Upon getting my morning coffee afterwards the gorgeous barista asks what I am on:
”Sound healing” I reply.

I had a hair cut in 2025.
I am overdue another. It’s getting to lengths where I may be identified as a bare back beach horse rider or a yogi who has spent a few years in a cave.
Neither of which are the case.
Long hair: Does this count as personal growth?
I remembered to shave my legs a couple of times.
I forgot my armpits for a while.

My shoe purchase for the year was 2 pairs of gumboots.
Two. Because I couldn’t decide. I spent an entire morning in the Mitre 10 gumboot aisle staring blankly at the vast array. I didn’t know there were so many types. Ankle, calf, knee high, fancy, standard. And then someone came along and said “ah you should get Le Chameaus. They have tweed inside.” And I’m like mate I haven’t even got a house to put a fucking tweed blanket in, ever so beautifully arranged over the arm of a brown leather couch, right now
so, shin high Red Bands, along with cut off denim shorts and a rain jacket or collared long sleeve shirt ( weather dependent) have become my uniform for cabin living.
Oh the second pair of gumboots you ask? They were knee high. Black.
Eva borrowed them for Rhythm & Vines
just in case it rained ….
they were left behind in the North Island.
Her baggage allowance went over the limit due to the weight
of the festival mud.

Mud is heavy eh
but one must remember: “No mud no lotus” Thich Nhat Hanh

Gladstone Track, Lake Hāwea, 28th January 12.13 a.m.

I feel incredibly grateful, often, that I am living life on the Edge right now
because it forces you to dig deep and
experience life intimately. Feeling it all.
It’s like all the clutter is stripped away and you are left with perhaps what is actually the Meaning of it all.

I am navigating this Life
as best I can,
and it feels, often, like I have headed right off the map into
unchartered territory. It’s f***ing frightening
but really isn’t it like that for all of us? If we want to cold plunge into life and come up with diamonds sparkling on our skin?

What I keep learning is that Life must be a constant turning towards
Towards what lights us up
allowing ourselves to be totally captivated in those moments
Especially when all else feels a bit dark
to look up at the stars and allow yourself to swim in them
to pause and watch the little girl in a tutu riding her bike, knees pedalling with such determination and with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen,
to feel the joy of the dog running with a stick twice it’s size in it’s mouth
to notice the cactus that has sprouted an abundance of pink flowers for the first time in 15 years and you wonder was that there all along
you wonder at what is inside

Everything

Always

Just waiting to blossom.

With Love and thank you for reading.
Jo xx