Lately, I’ve found myself drawn to nature. It’s not just the beauty of the landscapes that captivates me; it’s the quiet, the stillness, and the subtle sounds of the natural world that ground me in ways words can’t describe. There’s something about the hum of the earth beneath my feet and the air around me that settles my mind.

I began exploring coastlines, walkways and hiking trails, until I found myself following hidden paths leading to a secret place- a place where time slows down, where you can pause and simply be….. At the end of these winding trails, a waterfall awaits.

The rhythmic and soothing sound of cascading water is unlike any other sound I’ve heard, its almost like a nature’s lullaby. As the water falls from the rocks above, it creates a constant, calming hum that drowns out the chaos of the world. It’s as if the waterfall itself is inviting you to join in its stillness, to stop, breathe, and listen.

In these moments, the world feels distant and all that exists is the space around me – the air, the rocks, and the gentle sound of the water falling. The energy from the flowing water, and the quietness of the forest weave together into a perfect symphony of peace. It’s not just about the climb or the destination, but about finding yourself in the stillness that exists in places like these.

I’ve come to realize that nature, in its raw, unfiltered state, offers the kind of calm we often forget to seek in our busy lives. It doesn’t demand anything from you; as what my walking buddy kept telling me “it’s free”

The Fairy Falls

The first waterfall I visited was the Fairy Falls, tucked away in Waitakere Ranges hidden like a secret waiting to be discovered. To reach it, I descended through the lush canopies of towering ponga ferns and ancient kauri trees, their branches thick with life . The air was alive with the soft chirping of birds, a symphony of nature that echoed through the forest. As I approached the waterfall, I found myself getting swept up in the rhythm of its music—the soft, constant trickle of the smaller falls cascading down into the main pool. It was easy to get distracted, to lose track of the path, as I followed the sound of the water and the pull of its beauty. The closer I got, the more I wanted to immerse myself in it, almost forgetting the steepness of the trail behind me.

Fortunately, the trail was built with thoughtful care, and sturdy railings lined the way down. They offered something to hold onto as I navigated the tricky terrain. In that moment, the railing wasn’t just a physical support; it reminded me of the importance of structure in life. Just like the railings, there are moments when we need support—a guiding force to help us stay grounded when the pull of excitement or distractions tries to pull us off course. It’s easy to get lost in the allure of new experiences or the thrill of the unknown, but the presence of something steady, like those railings, can be the difference between plunging into the unknown without preparation and walking forward with confidence.

Life, like the trail, can be steep and unpredictable, but the right supports—whether they’re people, habits, or even moments of self-reflection—help us stay on track, guiding us when things get challenging.

When I finally reached the waterfall, it was everything I had hoped for — majestic, inviting, and calming all at once. Without even thinking, I found myself dipping my toes into the cool pool beneath the falls, the water rushing over my feet in a way that made me feel lighter. It was as if, in that moment, all my worries—especially the thought of the steep trail I’d have to climb back—disappeared. The beauty of the waterfall washed over me, and all I could do was surrender to its peaceful embrace. The sensation of the water, the rhythm of the falls, and the stillness that settled deep within me were all I needed. In that stillness, I realized how often we fight against life’s flow, when sometimes, the true beauty lies in simply surrendering to what is, in letting go of control and trusting the current to guide us.

And just as the sturdy railings guided me safely down, the water guided me into a space of calm, showing me the power of surrender and stillness. Both the trail and the falls became metaphors for life—reminding me that, while we may need support to navigate the rough patches, there are also moments where we must trust and release ourselves to the present, knowing that sometimes, the greatest peace comes when we let go.

The Oakley Creek Falls

In the heart of the city, where the thrum of life never truly quiets, I found a path leading to a hidden oasis—a place where the water falls.

The second waterfall I visited is nestled quietly among the trees and established bush in the city’s green haven – the Oakley Creek Falls. The path was easy, with no rough terrain just gentle slopes instead of steep climbs, inviting me to follow the path without effort. As I walked along the smooth path leading to the waterfall, the sounds of the city began to fade, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft murmur of flowing water.

The waterfall stood before me, its waters cascading gracefully , a serene sight amidst the greenery. Though the water’s surface shimmered with the promise of a refreshing dip, a notice board greeted me, its simple message clear: Swimming Not Allowed. I smiled quietly to myself, understanding that the invitation here wasn’t for immersion in the water but for immersion in the stillness that surrounded it. I wasn’t here to swim. I had come for something much deeper—a moment of stillness, a retreat from the noise that often overwhelms the mind. Finding a solid rock at the water’s edge, I sat, letting the cool stone anchor me to the earth. The moment felt sacred, as though nature had gently whispered, “Here, you are meant to rest.”

As I closed my eyes, a verse from Psalm 55:22 came to mind: “Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you; He shall never permit the righteous to be moved.” These words, simple yet profound, resonated deeply within me. In the stillness of the moment, I meditated on them, allowing the cascading sound of the waterfall to carry away the weight of my worries.

The waterfall, though constant in its flow, brought a sense of peace—not in rushing to a destination, but in simply being present with the sound. It was a reminder that stillness doesn’t come from stillness itself but from the steady rhythm that brings a calming presence to the chaos around us.

The Kite Kite Falls

After visiting two serene waterfalls, I set my sights on a third—a place where nature demands a little more effort, but promises a grander reward. Unlike the smooth, gentle paths of the first two waterfalls the path was not for the faint of heart. The climb was steep, with few railings to hold onto. I can no longer remember how many steps of the stairs that I have climbed but every step required careful attention, each movement demanded a test of agility and balance as the narrow trail wound up the hillside. With each upward step, I could feel the challenge becoming more tangible, but the promise of the waterfall at the top kept me moving. Yes, I would say, the climb was not easy, (for me) but there was something exhilarating about it. It wasn’t just a hike; it was a journey—a test of patience and determination. Each step felt like a decision, a commitment to push forward, no turning back now.

Finally, as I crested the last of the steep incline, Kite Kite Falls revealed itself in all its glory. The waterfall stood tall and powerful, its waters cascading down the rocks in a mesmerizing display of nature’s force. The sight was nothing short of spectacular, the sound of the water’s descent filling the air with a sense of triumph and awe. I stood there, taking in the grandeur of the scene, feeling both humbled and invigorated by the experience. Kite Kite Falls reminded me that sometimes, the most breathtaking rewards are found after the hardest climbs.

I sat at the edge of the falls, and closed my eyes, took a deep breath, letting the cool mist enveloped me like a calming embrace. The moment was overwhelming in its peace, and without thinking I began to sing.

“O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder…” The words of How Great Thou Art flowed from me, belted out in the open air, blending with the natural symphony of rushing water and the wind through the trees. I didn’t care if anyone thought I looked foolish, standing there, lost in the power of the moment. I was not just singing a hymn; I was offering my heart in that place of immense beauty, where nature and spirit seemed to collide.

In that moment, I felt something profound. The climb, the sweat, the struggle—it all faded into the background. There was only the sound of the water, the feeling of the mist on my skin, and the echo of the hymn in my soul. Whether others thought I was a fool or not didn’t matter. I was in a space where the beauty of the world met the quiet joy of surrender, where my soul could simply rejoice in the greatness of it all.

After belting out the hymn with all my heart, I felt the pull to immerse myself even further in the moment. I was drawn to the falls—its powerful beauty inviting me to get closer, So, without hesitation, I stepped onto a partially submerged rock near the edge of the water. The surface was slippery, slick with the constant mist and movement of the water.

For a moment, I lost my footing, the rock betraying me as I struggled to keep my balance. But instead of panic, I found myself laughing. The sound of my laughter echoed briefly in the midst of the waterfall’s roar. It was a laughter free of embarrassment, a laughter that came not from a place of foolishness, but from a realization. The risk I took in wanting to get closer—to feel the falls more deeply, to be in the heart of it—was a reflection of life itself.

In life, we often step onto slippery rocks, choosing to take risks and venture toward something greater, something beautiful, even when the path is uncertain. We may stumble, lose our footing, and even fall. Yet, in those moments of vulnerability and uncertainty, we are reminded that the journey itself is where the richness lies. The slip was a reminder that growth requires moments of discomfort, moments when we laugh at ourselves rather than shy away from the risk.

I had stepped forward, seeking a deeper connection with the falls, and in doing so, I was reminded that in life, it is not always about staying safe or avoiding mistakes. It’s about daring to get closer to what matters, to what moves us, even if it means laughing in the face of a slip, knowing it is all part of the process of truly embracing the journey

As I sat there, caught in the majesty of Kite Kite Falls, I realized I hadn’t taken a lot of photos to capture the moment. There was no need. The beauty of the moment, the richness of the experience, wasn’t something that could be captured in a photograph. I had been too in tune with the falls, with the gentle roar of the water, the mist on my skin, and the quiet laughter in my heart. It was a beauty that transcended the need to preserve it in an image—it was a beauty meant to be felt, not framed.

Amidst the powerful roar of the waterfalls I visited, I discovered a profound stillness that transcends sound. Though the water cascaded loudly, the moment was not defined by the noise, but by a deep inner calm that emerged from simply being present. Each waterfall, whether gently flowing or forcefully tumbling, invited me into a space where I could pause, listen, and let go of everything. It was a stillness not of silence, but of peace—a stillness that connects us to something greater, even in the midst of life’s noise. The true beauty of nature is found in these quiet moments, where the sound itself becomes part of the tranquility within…….