Comunication is COMPLICATED

Communication is COMPLICATED. We are all raised in a different family with slightly different definitions of every word. An agreement is an agreement only if each party knows the conditions for satisfaction and a time is set for satisfaction to occur.

~ Lululemon

Still no word on the visa and yet things continue to chug along here in Hanmer Springs. I have unofficially officially started my new position here at the camp as a Volunteer & Fundraising Coordinator. The paperwork may still need signing but my purpose each day at work has been re-ignited. No longer am I simply expected to ensure there are enough toilet rolls beside each toilet. Now I simply have to ensure that someone else has put enough toilet rolls beside each toilet.

Cat, Alex, myself and Ben watching the Rugby World Cup
opening game and ceremony.

And so it has begun. The past few weeks have been filled with both recruiting and training up backpackers to work at the camp for their accommodation. We now have what us camp staff have started to refer to as our own volunteer army. It’s been brilliant. All of a sudden, all the things we have been struggling to get done – all the things that continuously sit on the back burner to do during a slow day (but never get done) are now all being ticked off our never-ending list. Spring cleaning. Washing windows. Stacking wood. Weeding gardens. Re-painting fences. Tick, tick, tick. And through all of this I have realized that I am pretty comfortable with the whole “coordinating” side of my job, but it’s the communication part of it that leaves me completely flat-lined by the end of the day.

See – it would all be quite a simple process if everyone knew the thoughts and ideas going through my head, agreed with them and were able to successfully complete what I had in mind without a hitch. If only life were like that. Instead, I spend most of my day struggling to communicate what it is that I have in mind, what I want done and how to do it better for next time. And not for lack of trying either.

Stu FINALLY climbs the tree at the
camp. His son is only slightly distracted.

First off, bringing backpackers to the little bubble of our camp in the wonderland of Hanmer Springs isn’t that difficult. And getting them to work for free isn’t that hard either. It’s trying to communicate with them when they are all from different countries of the world. Different ages. Different backgrounds. Different ideas on how to do things – on what works and what doesn’t. Different work ethics. Not to mention when they speak different languages.

So – here I am in a learning curve of sorts as I have discovered that generally speaking, my biggest struggle is learning to not be so nice all the time. Learning to have boundaries. Learning to have standards of how I want things done. Learning to be a strong and competent leader. Easier said than done.

In particular, it’s been rather difficult the past month in trying to balance being a Volunteer Coordinator while living with the backpackers. I am still surviving in my little cabin of B1 and because of that, I share the kitchen/lounge facilities with the volunteer backpackers. Not exactly horrible, but when I finish work for the day and am craving my own space – all I have to laze around in is a cabin the size of a shoebox. But, with any luck, that will all soon change.

The Forest Camp is gearing up for some major staff changes here in the near future. Out Assistant Manager and Duty Managers are all jumping ship – leaving Steve & Lynne (Managers) and myself to run the camp while we hunt down a new couple to take on the roll of Assistant Managers. Long story short, one of the staff houses will be available for use by none other than me. That’s right – an actual house. Seems too good to be true. And so I pretend not to think about it in case it is just that.

But really – a house?! How do I even begin to contemplate how beautifully wonderful that would be?? How can I possibly begin to describe what it would mean to have a place not just to call my own, but somewhere that I could literally settle into and feel at home? The past 7 years of my life have been spent moving from place to place, jumping from one building to the next – never quite staying long enough to officially have changed my address with all my contacts. Not quite officially staying long enough to make the place feel lived in. Never staying longer than a year. Not to mention that of the past two years of my life, a year has been spent living out of tent, six months in a cramped box of a hut and the other six months jumping between flats, house shares, hostels and sleeping on people’s couches. To go from all of that to my very own two bedroom house would be a dream, to say the very least.

Lynn Lunn (2nd from left) plays in the band for a little
birthday party entertainment

To have one single roof over my head – a place where I can not only sleep, but eat, shower and have space to relax. A place with enough space to have people over. A place where I can get back into my art. A place to hang pictures and cook meals. A place to grow a garden. A place to make memories and call home. Like I said – it’s too good to be true.

And so I try not to think about it. But that’s difficult to do when the idea of moving into a house seems like the only stable thing in my life right now. I still don’t know about my visa and as far as I know – it might be until nearly the end of the year before I hear back just due to how long it will take to process my Canadian police check. I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen with the staff here – the gap in the team that Julie, Geoff and Stuart will leave here at the camp is tremendous and I try not to think about it. I try not to think about who is going to potentially fill their shoes. It’s out of my hands and up to Steve and Lynne to make that decision. Even the thought of how long it’s been since I’ve been back to Canada is something I push from my mind – the only thing that seems remotely realistically within my grasp is the potential to have my very own house. And even that still comes down to waiting.

So I count down the days to everything that could be. Might be. Should be. Will be. I count down the days to when I might hear word on my visa. I count down the days to when we could have new Assistant Managers at the camp. I count down the days to when I think I should be going back to Canada. I count down the days to when it will be a year from when Alex and I first stepped foot on Te Araroa Trail.

Steve and I make the climb up Mt. Isobel for the sunrise.

And as I spend my days feeling like The Count off of Sesame Street, I am increasingly more aware of how important it is to make the most out of life as it comes. The other day a friend in Hanmer Springs had her birthday. She turned 70. At her party that consisted of live entertainment and two Māori hāngi (pronounced [‘ha-ŋi]) which is a traditional New Zealand Māori method of cooking food using heated rocks buried in a pit oven with the ground, commonly used for special occasions. Oh – and then about a million people. Lynn literally invited pretty well all of Hanmer Springs and encouraged people to bring whomever they wanted to the party. And then there was her family. Brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, grandchildren and great-grandchildren – it was more of a family reunion than a birthday party. And the best part was that as an outsider, you still felt like part of a family. It was the biggest gathering of love that I had ever seen. Everyone just rocked up to one of Lynn’s daughter’s back garden with their own drink in hand and spent the evening chatting it up with everyone and everyone. There was a massive poster to sign for Lynn of which I can only imagine what she thought while reading it over the next day – many signatures were from people she would have never met before.

The food was fabulous, but the bit that got me the most was the big collage of photos from Lynn’s life. Here was a woman captured throughout her years – her full life of everything that life could be. I have only gotten to know her in the past six months – months of which we worked together, did Robin Hood together, played darts together and spent many moments just simply spending time together. The few stories she’s told me and those I’ve heard about her have just left me completely inspired to continue living life to the full. And that’s exactly what she has done – and it was all captured within the collage. Her as a child with a goofy face. Her riding a bike, completely care-free. Her with her siblings. Her with her children. Her living life.

Solar panels get added to the new
toilet/shower block at the camp.

And that is probably what inspires me most about Lynn Lunn. She has found a way to live life completely to the full without a need or desire to take more than what life has given her. She has never left New Zealand. Hates to fly. Has grown up in the Hanmer Springs area as something like a 5-generation family member and still loves it to bits. She knows everyone and anyone in Hanmer Springs and gets along with practically everyone she meets (hence the large crowd at her party). She makes the most out of the life she has and loves every minute of it. She doesn’t apologize for what she has done in life or who she is. She accepts people for who they are as much as what she accepts herself for who she is.

She is everyone’s grandma. Everyone’s mother. Everyone’s sister and friend. She is the person you could talk to about anything. She is the person who is up for anything. She exudes this passion for life that I have seen in few people and all it does is make me want more.

Lynn has lived 70 years on this planet and has so many stories to tell and yet she is still going strong. I only hope that by the time I reach that age that I can say I have lived like she has. Danced as she has. Laughed as she has. Loved as she has.

And as much as Lynn has inspired me in life, so has so many other people. She reminds me of family back home of whom I think of regularly and am reminded of what is important in life. I have come to realize that life isn’t about what job you have, where you have been, how much money you have or who you know. Life is about the simple things. About going after your dream. About loving the people in your life for who they are. About taking that risk to become a better person. About taking the smallest moments in life and living them to the full. Life is about life.

So as I wait for so much of the life that I hope will be, I am still taking the time to live to the full with what I have. Morning runs have become a regular thing, many being accompanied by Steve & Lynne’s dog – Jess – and as I spent the first hour of light letting my feet lead me up, down and all around the forest trails, I feel blessed to know that this is my life. Blessed that I can sweat my way up to the top of a mountain saddle or hilltop and then stretch my tired muscles as I watch the sunrise. Blessed that I can push my body, all the while laughing at Jess as she comes tearing around the corner in an effort to outrun me.

It’s moments like that that I treasure. Moments like when me and Cat go out for dinner at a local pub and just spend time having a nice meal by the fire. Moments like when I see the kids from the next school group coming to the camp – faces that have no power to contain the excitement bubbling inside. Moments like that are what matter.