I Moved To The Country – And Found Myself
How did the pandemic change Megan Morton? She made a rural leap, for starters, but there was much more to it than that.
I had been living in Sydney for decades, raising three children, running multiple businesses – and generally, just running! When I decided to move my business from Sydney to a 60-hectare farm in the hinterland of Byron Bay, NSW, I was expecting an open-air, rural kind of switch. What I didn’t realise is how change can be such a great energy shifter.
Suddenly, it felt like I was moving mental weight. In this new community, I learnt you can’t present yourself in the same way that you always have done. It became apparent that no-one gave a shit about what I did or what books I’d written or who I was. Here, they asked, “What can you make me? What are you growing? What are you using this earth for?” At first I found myself grappling with my ego; I would feel myself shrinking smaller and smaller. But then, it occurred to me that I’d bought a place in one of the greenest parts of Australia … yet I didn’t have a composting system! There were all these things I didn’t know, that I needed to know. At first, the locals felt sorry for me; I had to ask Siri: “What’s shrub?” (Answer: a home-made cordial) I thought I was coming from such a civilised place in Sydney, but I saw that the civility was with these people.
Here’s an example: no-one has a takeaway coffee cup. The first reason is obvious: it involves unforgiveable plastic and non-recyclable cardboard. But also, if you can’t be bothered to sit down in a beautiful cafe with a glass cup, what are you doing? Why are you rushing? Why would you choose to stand in a queue for your coffee and pay money to drink it quickly in your car? I work in Sydney during the week and now I practise what I have been taught: take a seat inside a cafe, take your time, meet up with a friend and make those moments count. I’m far more present. In rural towns, people are literally heaven. I’m so inspired by these people who I would otherwise never get to meet and If I knew this, I would have busted a gut to come here earlier.
I now have a rainforest in my backyard and access to World Heritage listed sites. I’ve realised that to work in artifice – as I do – is fine, but to master it you have to sit and rest in nature, because everything is there. It’s the source of my inspiration. What I’m finding now is that when I go to work, I’ve got fresh eyes and I see things totally differently. It’s made me excited to ricochet back into this semi-aggressive Sydney work life, because I can see my bullseye.
““Now, instead of saying, ‘I’m so tired’, or ‘I’m so menopausal’, I wake up and every day there is a new radish or blade of grass or bird that I haven’t seen before, and I think, ‘Wow, this really is a moving planet that’s shift shaping.’” ”
The idea that every single morning you wake up and there’s new growth in the surrounding pastureland is so exhilarating. Now, instead of saying, “I’m so tired,” or “I’m so menopausal,” I wake up and every day there is a new radish or blade of grass or bird that I haven’t seen before, and I think, “Wow, this really is a moving planet that’s shape shifting.” And if I feel overwhelmed or bad in some way, that feeling dissipates within 10 minutes of waking. When I lived in the city, I had to wait until the weekend to download, and that was the time I could rest and refresh. Now I live in a green brain zone; everyone around me is making sure they can enjoy the coffee and the person they’re with and everything else that means.
Small adjustments make such a big difference in the end. I make it a point every morning to have coffee with someone and I make sure it’s a beautiful coffee with them. I don’t get surly if the waitress tries to push me off because I am going to have my one hour of coffee time, no matter what!
You don’t need to move countries to see changes like I have seen, but I think it has to be a radical move in some way. I find that the country is made up of people who have come to this place because they actually love the earth. It’s such a beautiful way to live; the meaning of life is to have a meaning. Before I felt like I had only work meaning. It made me feel a bit guilty about putting out certain messaging into the world: it was like, “Be like this! This is beautiful!” But what I found to be true is the opposite. You don’t have to be like anything; nature takes care of everything.
I’ve never felt like I’ve lived in a community where people really care. I remember sitting in my apartment and seeing a neighbour of mine in his Porsche run into a food delivery guy. He didn’t stop! It was so upsetting; it was so awful and even when I was trying to work out which neighbour it was, I realised, “oh my god, there’s 15 guys on my street who drive a black Porsche”. I thought, how can I expect much if these are my neighbours who I am relying on if I need help? All of a sudden, I didn’t feel like I was in the right place. (For the record: the delivery driver received medical treatment and was OK.)
In my new life, I get to meet people who actually care. When I celebrated my birthday, my neighbours came to my door with different versions of a carrot cake; one was light and beautiful and the other was dense and casserole-y. It was such a beautiful, kind, easy idea. They didn’t have to go to a shop and buy me something. The fact this gesture was so full of meaning, got me hooked on the idea that generosity isn’t for the moments when people are looking. That’s what a stylist does; they make things generous when the cameras are there. But that’s not when it counts. It’s all the other times that it counts.