As I get up I feel some liquid running down the right hand fingers. Quickly I take the flute in the left hand to prevent it from being soaked in blood. Shining some light on the right hand I see the asphalt has left its’ markings from the fall I just made. The jacket I’m wearing now is torn. I’m feeling gratefull the flute didn’t get damaged. I wipe off the mountainhill dust and continue the walk towards Col de l’homme mort (dead mans’ pass), where the bicycle is waiting for me to return. As I approach in the dark, the reflecting stripes on the wheels light up. Almost home.
Before, I was in the caravan, trying to catch some sleep. Something kept me awake though. Thoughts of the period in the Netherlands ahead of me were running through the head. Followed by all sorts of wishes, dreams and expectations about the adventure following this month in the Netherlands. The head was everywhere, except where I wanted it to be; in the present.
After a while I remembered someone telling me, meteorites are passing by in this period of time. Which can be seen during the night. The idea of seeing stars, shooting meteorites and sitting on top of a mountain was very appealing to me. So I jumped up to get into a pair of shorts, shirt, jacket and a pair of sandels. I imagined myself playing the flute so I grabbed it to bring along. Beside this I took a waterbottle and the headtorch, which I thought was going to be useless, since it was such a clear night and I thought I knew my way up the mountain.
On the way up the headtorch only prevents me from stepping in cow droppings. Arriving at the top, I still feel the exitement and restlessness in all the body, mind and spirit. Facing south I sit down to see the silhouette of the Pyrenees in the distance. As I’m watching the sky filled with stars, I grab the flute with the intention to play some harmonious tunes. The light breeze suddenly appearing puts both me and the flute to silence. It takes me a while to settle with the message Life is giving me. So I put the flute down beside me and lay down. I surrender to the sky filled with stars and the occasional meteorite shooting by. Slowly I calm down a bit.
Out of nothing I get up and grab the flute and the bottle laying next to me. Without giving notice to where I’m going, I start to descend. As I walk I see citylights in front of me. Another mountain in the distance seems to be in the wrong place. Also the slope seems to be a lot steeper than I remember. I ignore all these signals of me going the wrong way. When reaching the forest I have to admit I took a wrong turn somewhere.
It takes me some wandering around the forest boundaries, before I decide it’s best to climb back to the top and reorientate. In a new attempt to descend I keep the silhouette of the Pyrenees ahead. A car driving by confirms the idea of having set off in the right direction. I feel quite odd and insecure, after losing orientation earlier. Also I start to feel impatient. As I stumble upon a fence I lose my patience. I discard the knowledge that following the fence will lead to an exit. I want to get out now. So I trust the feet will carry me down the short but steep slope ahead of me. Hereby trusting on the gained experience playing with gravity while skateboarding, climbing or slacklining in the past. I crawl underneath the fence, and lightfooted I find the way down.
Again I ignored a simple fact. In the earlier mentioned sports I practised, I really needed to be relaxed, aware and in the present in order to land the trick or complete the route. Life found a way to remind me of these earlier learnt lessons. Now, wearing a torn jacket and some scrapes on the right hand, knee and foot, I calm down to continue the way back home and leave this strange feeling of uncontrolled exitement and restlesnes behind.
With no plasters to be found, I wrap my right hand, arm and foot in clean socks to prevent the bedding from being stained. Back in bed the mind is still drifting of in all directions. It takes various attemps to relax and to slowly fade in the nightly world of dreams.
Few days later I find myself having another sleepless night. This time the reason is not to be found in uncontrolled exitement and restlessness. I went to bed really early this particular night, simply because I felt the urge for some quiet time and a good rest. As I’m staring at the caravans’ white ceiling I can’t help reliving the nightly stargazing trip and the harsch way Life told me to calm down. I don’t believe Life/ God/ Universe is something that punnishes, I don’t believe it’s something outside of me that made me fall down. I believe, what I experience in life is no more than a reflection of my inner world; thoughts, expatations, convictions, feelings etc.. So I ask myself; what lives inside of me, that makes me hurt myself in order to get any kind of reward? I promise myself to have a look at this question during the day.
So here I am. Welcome in my head and heart. Asking myself the question again, It turns painfully quiet. I feel how deeply rooted this question finds its answer.
A picture appears to me of a mature tree of which a major root is about to be cut. A root which keeps the tree standing, but doesn’t feed it to grow, live and thrive. The thought of cutting it out, alerts the roots guards to protect it. Also the tree is afraid to fall over and die, when this root will be cut. I realise, I don’t need to focus on cutting out this root. Having developed new roots during its life, these can feed the tree. Roots that do support in its growth and that feed him to thrive. Focussing on those, the tree will find solid and fertile ground, to stand up tall, grow and be the great tree it is. The now dominating old root will slowly lose it’s importance and it’ll be part of a balanced rootsystem carrying a strong and healthy tree.
Beautiful image this is to me. But it doesn’t get me closer yet. As I sit here in the caravan I feel the energy leaving the body, while the head is working really hard to find answers. I tear myself away from the tablet-computer and follow the way up to col de l’homme mort again. In this one kilometer walk, as body and head are getting in line again, things are becoming clear. I get to see the conviction living inside me. For a long time it lived quietly and unseen, but steering my experiences in life in a sometimes brutal way. It is the conviction that; every reward (love, appreciation, lessons, money, material, etc.) in life comes with an effort. I can agree on this one. Wouldn’t I have been putting effort in paddling all these kilometers, I’d still be in the small countryside hamlet in the Netherlands sitting on a bicycle without getting somewhere. It is in the word “effort” that I find the catch. To me this word is almost synonym to struggling, torturing and fighting with myself and the flow of life.
I walk over the pass, feeling very clear having come to this conclusion. I continue the walk a bit, to see the mountain Bugarach. I admire its’ outstanding shapes and soke in some of its healing energy. I stretch and let the pain caused by misunderstanding the word effort die off. Summer shows its’ abundance blackberries, ready to be eaten, on the side of the road. It only takes a little effort to get to this sweet and juicy reward.
Well, there I found another treasure. But when repairing a bench for Eddy another thing comes to mind. This time it’s about the reward. I think about the torn jacket. A jacket I rewarded myself with in order to stay warm during my travels, which sometimes involves some colder periods. Why is it; that I take away this comfortable reward? Wow, this time an answer comes immediately. I don’t find myself worth while. So I take away the things in which I find love, appreciation, comfort, abundance etc.. For me, this completes this circle.
I can let go now.