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There is nothing that focuses the mind so matter-of-factly, albeit appreciatively, on a treasured, intimate relationship as the celebration of the anniversary of its perceived materialisation, especially where the anniversary marks a milestone usually measured in multiples of fives or tens. In this case the milestone is fifteen. On the fifteenth day of February it was fifteen years to the day when Vicki and I took our vows to each other before a small group of friends and family on the banks of a stream in a forest clearing in New Zealand. Crafted in our own words, they were vows restating a commitment to each other which has its origin in an evening thirteen years earlier when we shared a poem that has come to have special significance in our lives. The poet is Dylan Thomas, the poem is Fern Hill and it ends like this:

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

This evocation of youth contrasts its simplicity and joy with the confines imposed by and inherent in the human condition as evinced in the strictures of time. Put another way, the ease and song of youth diminish with age. This I once thought was inevitable. Now I know that it is not but only if you consciously choose to resurrect the immediacy of youth as the years advance. The challenge lies in learning to abandon the illusion of security.

Our decision to step out of time and spend a year living in the immediacy of the moment is effectively transforming our lives well before Klaus’ Island-Mountain Education course starts. We find ourselves called on to evaluate much that is dear to us. Will our relationship withstand the stresses of a 12-month incubation in close proximity with 10 other people of varying ages? When the course finishes at the end of August 2012, will we want to return to Australia or go elsewhere? Together or alone? Do we take our horses? Anaïs definitely, but what about Gulliver and Farinelli? Gulliver is besotted with Anaïs. How much will we hurt him if we separate them? If we leave the geldings behind, it will be close to 18 months before we see them again. Do we really want this? What about our puppy? Dubu is 16 years old. Do we use the three-month postponement of the course to enjoy his company a little longer here in Australia and hope his life will come to a natural end before we leave, or do we assume that he will still be alive then and that it is better to travel to Europe with him sooner rather than later, because he will be more likely to withstand the trip? What if he dies en route? What do we do with all our belongings from personal effects to farm machinery? How much do we sell off and what is worth putting into storage?

Like nagging fears the questions keep restating themselves. Some we cannot answer, do not want to answer, so we put them aside. Others almost overwhelm us, those concerning the animals in particular.

Dubu’s travel plans are a case in point. When to leave was the first major question. How was the next. We have decided to take Dubu to Europe sooner rather than later to give him a better chance of surviving the journey with a minimum of discomfort. Because of his age, we intend to confine all medical intervention to an absolute minimum while offering him maximum comfort. This means arranging as much as we can ourselves without going through a pet carrier, and scheduling a stopover in a hotel which accepts dogs without insisting on the full spectrum of vaccinations. Travelling via Asia is the cheaper option but our enquiries soon ran into a wall of difficulties and induced us to resurrect the USA alternative, which we had originally ruled out because it is twice as expensive. Following much research and discussion, we are now scheduled to leave Australia for Europe (via the USA) with Dubu in mid-April. Hopefully Anaïs will join us soon after. We intend to stay in the Netherlands until we leave for Denmark towards the end of August.

What to do with the horses has been a more emotive question. Initially, we decided to take Anaïs and leave the geldings behind together. This decision was difficult enough in itself. Splitting our little herd would be difficult for the horses. Not seeing two of the three for such a long period of time would be tough for us. The scenario then switched to taking the mare and Farinelli with us, so that we would both have a horse to work with at Klaus. Leaving Gulliver behind on his own though was almost akin to abandoning him, so we examined the possibility of taking all of the horses to Europe and leaving Gulliver in the Netherlands while we attended the course with the other two horses. Farinelli has a history of back problems, which manifested themselves again, with the result that we abandoned that option and reverted to our original decision. Again the prospect of splitting up the herd and not seeing the geldings for up to one and a half years proved to be very challenging, so we reconsidered the option of taking all three horses. This would also make it easier to get Anaïs over to Europe in time for the course, as it looks as though it is going to be very difficult to slot her in with two of someone else’s horses on the standard three-horse pallet to keep costs down. Unfortunately, taking all three horses over to Europe would also effectively mean closing the door to a return to Australia, because it does not make any sense to take them over only to bring them back again. Closing the door to Australia is an option Vicki does not wish to entertain at this point in time, so we have reverted to our original decision: Anaïs goes and the geldings stay. I have no doubt that Farinelli and Gulliver will be fine but they will be sorely missed.

This is by far the most life-wrenching adventure we are embarked on and not merely because of the animals involved. Although similar in some respects to our decision to emigrate from the Netherlands to New Zealand with four cats in 1992, this move is more massive in its implications, not least because no final destination has been defined. Denmark will at most be a transit house. To where is as yet undefined. As we sell off our possessions, we find ourselves questioning their value and the illusion of security and permanence they inspire. Vicki’s twin sister, Agathe, and our New Zealand friends whose dog, Ibo, we cared for en route from the Netherlands to New Zealand via the USA those many years ago, have just left us following a brief stay 15 years after they witnessed our marriage in that New Zealand forest. Their response to what we are doing is illustrative of the reactions of friends and family. Even those who believe we are sacrificing prosperity and security for the self-indulgent symptoms of a mid-life crisis in increasingly desparate times, are expressing their support but, above all, a refreshing curiosity as to where this adventure will lead us.

Together with Smudge and Dubu on our wedding day

Thankful for this support, we can already tell you where it is leading us. It is taking us into the jaws of everyday existence, it is confronting us with all that we value and fear, and it is challenging us to look deep within ourselves for the simplicity of living: in the moment as it comes. We are alive again. We are rediscovering the ease and song of our youth. We are in love with each other one more time. We are singing in our chains together again 28 years after we started.