Reborn 44 - A Coastal Pilgrimage

A coastal journey shaped by place, presence and reflection from the Northern Beaches to the Northern Rivers.

44 Reborn

Ready to Roar, a coastal pilgrimage

REBORN 44 didn’t begin with a plan.
It began with a feeling.

A quiet sense that something was ready to move, not aggressively, not loudly, but with intention. After years of rebuilding in one place, it felt time to carry that work outward. Not to perform it. Not to prove anything. Just to walk with it.

Ready to Roar wasn’t about speed or force.
It was about being awake.

Leaving without knowing

For the journey, I hired a van from someone I already knew — Jen’s van, Macaroon. Simple, mobile, open. I’d never been on a road trip alone before, let alone one where I was documenting the experience as it unfolded. That uncertainty became part of the pilgrimage itself.

Most days began the same way.
A cup of tea. Usually peppermint.
Sitting down. Checking in.

No rush. No agenda.

I travelled north along the coastline toward Byron Bay, stopping where it felt right. Sometimes that meant coffee with a friend. Sometimes a walk. Sometimes movement. Sometimes just sitting and listening. The rhythm was slow and unforced.

The journey didn’t ask to be filled.
It asked to be felt.

Why Byron mattered

Byron Bay held a specific weight.

It was the place where I had my last drink. My last line of cocaine. The last time I gambled. Even if I didn’t fully understand it at the time, it marked the end of one chapter of my life.

Returning wasn’t about revisiting the past or reliving it.
It was about acknowledging it.

Closing the loop.
Standing in the place where something ended, with awareness of what had been rebuilt since.

Conversations over outcomes

Along the way, people joined the journey, some for a moment, others for longer. Friends. Strangers. Surfers. People who felt aligned with the work.

Most connections began simply. A coffee. A short conversation. No expectations.

Sometimes those moments turned into movement sessions or walks near the ocean. Sometimes they didn’t. Both were enough.

Surfing was never the goal.
If it happened, it happened.
If it didn’t, nothing was lost.

The ocean was there as a place of presence and regulation — not conquest. A reminder to listen rather than force.

Turning 44 on the road

On the 7th of December, I turned 44.

There was no big celebration. No noise. Just reflection.

Forty-four felt symbolic, not because of age alone, but because of responsibility. Awareness. Choosing to live deliberately after a long period of rebuilding.

Ready to Roar didn’t mean loud or aggressive.
It meant awake.
Willing to step forward after learning how to sit still.

Marking the end of a chapter

On the final day of the journey, I chose to close the pilgrimage with an ayahuasca ceremony.

Not as escape.
Not as novelty.
And not as a search for answers.

It was a conscious way to mark the end of a chapter and honour the work already done. A moment of integration. Accountability. Sitting with what had surfaced throughout the journey and acknowledging the responsibility that comes with moving forward awake.

It wasn’t the beginning of something new.
It was the sealing of something already in motion.

What the journey became

Ready to Roar wasn’t about arriving somewhere different.

It was about recognising where I’d been.
Acknowledging how far I’d come.
And choosing to keep walking, with others, in conversation and in service of something bigger than myself.

The pilgrimage became the foundation for REBORN 44.

A way of moving through places slowly.
Meeting people where they are.
Letting movement, conversation and presence lead.

The journey was documented as it unfolded — through writing, video, photography and shared moments. Imperfectly. Honestly. Without timelines or polish.