My kids started school, so having a strong base in Melbourne has

Hear the words of Geoffrey Rush, spoken with the calm wisdom of one who has walked many stages, yet knows the deeper stage of life itself: “My kids started school, so having a strong base in Melbourne has been a key priority. I’m not daunted by the travel. People say, ‘It’s so far to Australia,’ and I say, ‘You get on the plane, you eat well, you sleep, you wake up—and you’re there.’” Within these words lies not merely a comment on journeys, but a profound teaching on home, family, and perspective.

At the heart of this saying is the truth that roots matter more than roads. Rush, a man whose art demanded travel and performance in distant lands, knew that a foundation at home—in this case, Melbourne, where his children could grow and be grounded—was more vital than the endless motion of his career. To set a base is to set an anchor, so that even as the winds of travel scatter the sails, the soul remains tethered to what is most essential: family and belonging.

He also reveals a heroic approach to perspective. Many shrink before the vastness of distance, saying, “It is too far, it is too much.” But Rush teaches otherwise: the burden of distance is lightened by how the mind perceives it. “You get on the plane, you eat, you sleep, you wake up—and you’re there.” In this simplicity lies wisdom: daunting tasks dissolve when broken into their steps, and journeys that seem impossible become manageable when embraced with calm acceptance. What others see as hardship, he transforms into rhythm.

History itself confirms this way of seeing. Consider the explorers of the Age of Discovery—Magellan, who circled the globe; or Cook, who charted the far reaches of the Pacific. To many, their voyages were inconceivable distances, but they approached them one day, one crossing, one shore at a time. Just as Rush speaks of the flight to Australia as a sequence of simple acts, so too did they break impossible oceans into possible moments. And in this lies the enduring truth: the immensity of life is always conquered in increments.

There is also a whisper of gratitude in his words. Rush does not complain of the distance, nor of the long hours of travel. Instead, he marvels at the wonder of it: to live in a world where one can sit in a seat of steel, eat a meal, fall asleep, and awaken in another hemisphere. To him, it is not a burden but a gift. The ancients would have spent months braving storms, illness, and peril to reach such a land. Yet in his time, the impossible is made ordinary—and he honors it with lightness rather than complaint.

The lesson, then, is clear: value what is near, and do not fear what is far. Establish strong foundations in your life—your family, your values, your place of belonging. Then, when the world calls you to travel, to labor, or to face daunting tasks, remember Rush’s wisdom: break the impossible into steps, embrace the journey with gratitude, and you will find that distance is less a wall and more a passage.

In practice: when you feel overwhelmed by the enormity of a challenge, simplify it. Take it step by step, moment by moment, as if you were on a long flight: eat, rest, rise, and continue. And always remember your base, your foundation, the home of your soul—whether it is family, friendship, or faith. For as Rush teaches, when you know where you belong, the farthest journeys lose their power to daunt you, and every return becomes a homecoming.