Life is full of twists and turns, unexpected detours. We plan and we chase, yet some of the richest moments come from what we cannot predict. There is a quiet magic in surrendering to the unknown and following the paths that reveal themselves along the way.
Getting off track is not a failure. It can open the door to new discoveries, deepen our understanding, or lead us to experiences we could never have imagined. The journey itself becomes the teacher, guiding us through uncertainty with subtle gifts.
To live fully is to embrace life’s unpredictability, move forward without rigid expectation, and trust that each step carries its own meaning. When we lean into the unknown, we find richness, connection, and a deeper sense of being part of something far greater than ourselves.
Jane reads two beautiful poems in this film. They are: Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver Walk Slowly, by Danna Faulds
Who is Reflections of Life? We are Justine and Michael. We use our passion for filmmaking and our love of storytelling, to remind our audience of one simple truth – that we are all human. The more that we understand and believe in this interconnectedness, the more we will treat ourselves, one another, and planet earth with a greater sense of compassion.
Filming - by Michael Raimondo Editing - by Justine du Toit Sound mix - by Tamryn Breakey-Volschenk Colour grade - by Daniel de Villiers
Music tracks used in this film: Midnight - by Saltbreaker (via Audiio) Dusk Between the Peaks - by Thomas Ben Tov (via ArtList) Creation - by DaniHaDani (via ArtList) Taking the Long Way Home - by A. Taylor (via MusicBed) How Lucky We Are - by Edward Cross (via Audiio) Harpspace - by Saltbreaker (via Audiio)
A huge thank you to these guys, who gave so generously of their to time to help with translations, enabling us to provide subtitles in the following languages: Arabic - by Mohammad Al‑Therwi Croatian - by Davor Bobanac Czech - by Katarína Božek Dutch - by Karla Greven English - by Justine du Toit French - by Amélie Macoin German - by Sibylle Steinpass Greek - by Vicky Polychroni Italian - by Grazia Gironella Japanese - by Junko Ogasawara Polish - by Anna Konieczna Portuguese - by Sibylle Steinpass and Lucivani Valvassori Slovak - by Zuzana Beratsova Slovenian - by Tadej Pasar Spanish - by Paty Aguirre Turkish - by Seda Duran
That's a serious question.
Have I ever had a midlife crisis? I don't have a Lamborghini in the garage
or toy boy anywhere. Have I ever had a midlife crisis or am I having one? Maybe I'm having one.
I don't really know, you know, what does it mean to have a midlife crisis?
I don't feel like I'm in crisis, that's the truth of the matter. I feel that certainly I'm
in a point of major change and a rebirth of sorts, but it's anything but a crisis.
My whole life, growth has been my motivator.
All of my life is built to this point and here I am. That's interesting too,
that I use that motion because I feel like what's happening is that.
And then suddenly springs into mind, there's just a short quote that was,
oh flip it, I've lost it, but in essence it's about the pain of remaining a bud
becomes greater than the pain, the fear of opening up into a full flower,
and that's what I feel like I'm at, of the space that I'm at in my life, you know.
That is where I am actually. It's unfolding in this place of being as opposed to
going anywhere or, it's interesting because I haven't actually really thought of it like that
before, you know. Shikoku Island, just south of the mainland of Japan. There are 88 temples
that run like a string of pearls around this island and there's a mammoth walk of 1200
kilometers from temple to temple and I decided I was going to do this.
Walking Shikoku kind of cracked me open like a nut, you know, or nutshell rather,
and in the smallest, humblest ways.
One of the big, big lessons was getting lost. I would get sidetracked by
a twisty, gnarly branch or roots growing off in a direction or a smell or a sound,
whatever the case may be, and I would wander off the path and then think, I'm lost.
And I would just stand still and be lost, really just surrender to being lost,
and then pick a direction and head off. And there were times when I really did get lost,
but most of the time I was led to an incredible discovery that was off the path.
A sweet factory where I walked in and I couldn't believe the delights of all of these sweeties.
And the woman saw that I was a pilgrim and said, sit down, and bought me matcha tea and
a plate of goodies as a gift because I was a pilgrim on the path.
What stays with me is that we are never lost. We are where we are and there is always a gift
where you are. Just got to be open to it, you know. And I think that for myself and I think
for a lot of us, we can't see what's right in front of us a lot of the time because we're so
worried. Our minds are so busy with should be, what if, could be, shoulda, woulda, coulda,
all of that mind speak that keeps us from seeing that where we are is exactly where we need to be
and where we should be. We do instinctively know our path, our choice, our options, our purpose.
But because we have the mind, we get distracted and we lose our way instead of just standing still
and acknowledging really what we already, you know, where we are. Gosh, I mean Mary Oliver
says it and I have her written here and I'm going to read her as well because maybe she'll help me
also find my own words and her beautiful words. It's a wild geese, you probably all know it.
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles
through the desert repenting. This is it. You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile,
the world goes on. Meanwhile, the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes, across the prairies and the deep trees and the mountains
and the rivers. Meanwhile, the wild geese high in the clean blue air are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination.
Calls to you like the wild geese. Harsh and exciting.
Over and over announcing your place in the family of things. Yeah. When I think about these times
that we are in at this time, an instinctual, very deep level within us, we know that we are in
the most challenging of challenging times. I think that part of the troubles in the world
is the instinct acting out in a immature way, you know, in an unconstructive way.
Because if we really tap into the essence of our humanity, it connects us to each other.
We just like become, you know, these beautiful, vibrating, connecting beings who,
you know, there's a, when you see the beauty of another person, the true essence of another
person, it just brings you to your knees, you know, and it inspires you to be that yourself.
If we were and could be fully human, if we really embrace that, then we have a chance, I think,
of at least honoring our species and this beautiful, incredible planet that has given us life.
Being human is common to us all.
And that's the invitation, is just to be fully human.
One of the gifts of growing older is that you become full of experience and stories, which
are your answers to your living and your life to this point, you know, and you can share those.
And perhaps there is a gift in those for other people.
I seem to have been able to strengthen in my own being the ability to witness myself.
I think that for a good part of our lives, the witnesses are there, but they're critical.
This, on the other hand, this witness is a benevolent elder.
I've just realized I've become my own elder.
You know, my parents are gone, my grandparents are gone.
They're there, but they're not here.
And suddenly I realize I'm now my own elder in this journey.
Wow, that's, that's, sorry, it's just, it's an epiphany.
So that, that, this witness is my new companion and has been there.
I didn't even recognize or wasn't able to name, but I'm so,
so deeply happy and grateful to have named in this moment.
It's like an old friend who's always been there.
You know what I mean?
It's incredible.
And I realized that I've been peeling back layers,
constantly reminding myself that, no, no, yes, yes, something that,
to open to something that was here already.
Yeah.
And that's, you know, we all have that capacity in every moment, in every moment.
There are no secrets.
That's the secret.
Is that just being as open and honest and present and awake and complex and flawed and
damaged and vulnerable and judgmental and scared and childlike and
all of what we are as humans, just being that is all we have to do.
You just have to show up.
You really just have to show up.
Even as I say that, the relief in my body, it's like, oh, that's all we have to do.
And it's the scary thing, showing up, actually, because showing up means
no masks, no defenses, no protection.
You know, it only takes a reminder to breathe, a moment to be still.
And just like that, something in me settles, softens, makes space for imperfection.
The harsh voice of judgment drops to a whisper.
And I remember again that life isn't a relay race,
that we all will cross the finish line, that waking up to life is what we were born for.
As many times as I forget to catch myself charging forward without even knowing where I am going,
that many times I can make the choice to stop, to breathe and be and walk slowly in the mystery.
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