I don’t have an iPad, an iPod, a flat screen HD 3D TV. I don’t own a house or a car or a horse grazing in a paddock. I don’t wear Christian Lacroix’s dresses or Jimmy Choo’s shoes. I don’t own a washing machine or a microwave, a dishwasher or a bath. I don’t have the money to pay for gym membership or trips to Disneyland, for restaurant meals or bottles of wine. I don’t have space. You might look at me and think that I don’t have very much.
But here’s what I do have: I live with my three favourite people in the world – a gorgeous man who keeps me warm at night and two beautiful, funny, smart daughters who wake me up every morning with cuddles. I have an extended family that accepts that convention and I will never see eye to eye, and I have friends who get me.
I have clothes to keep me warm and dry and protected from the sun. I have a boat. I have a fishing rod. I have books and a radio and a laptop. I have navigation charts.
I have within me the embodied knowledge to cook and bake and fish and forage. My fingertips are bursting with stories to write, my voice carries the lyrics and tune of every pop song written between 1958 and 1998, the words of every poem I have learned since childhood. I have the memories of a life of adventure and love imprinted on my being.
I have a strong and healthy body.
I have the ocean beneath me and the great open sky above me. I have time to play and explore.
I have the wisdom to know how little I know and how much I still want to learn.
I have everything.