It was often like that … on Day 3 she felt completely blank. She climbed the ragged steps to seek solace on the roof. There was more sky up here and the wind pulled at her impatience to do something and tossed it away. Just sit with yourself shared the rolling hills. Each season has its place. When it is dry, rain will eventually fall. The church bells began chiming and interrupted the fields. Be sure to eat something, a full belly is best. Ha ha laughed the pigeons, make a good nest. But remember to fly because freedom is best.
So I made it to Paris and I’m soaking up the summer. The past week was testing. It began when I made the final search through my backpack at the airport to discover that the bundle of sweat-saved euros was no longer where I had concealed it. I managed to avoid a Fukushima-sized meltdown with measured breaths and the type of fatalism required when one is about to board Malaysian airlines. Somewhere between the carpark and the undersized economy seat, I had also lost a luggage lock and my water bottle. There was nothing to do but let go. I closed my eyes and imagined what the mountain gods and goddesses would counsel. The answer was clear. Everything is already yours if you are prepared to accept it. Around midnight in a strangely familiar airport lounge halfway across the world, I discovered the missing money. This felt like a gift because I had already jumped off the edge and was free flying.
One more sleep and I’m back in the land of sunflowers and sunshine. My heart is so full of love for what I have and what lies before me… see you on the other side.
As the cold seeps further into my bones, I walk the mountain more often to commune with the Gods and Goddesses. Should I follow the sun I sing, as I step through the wispy winter grass. Listen to your heart, I hear the rocks roll under my feet. This is not the first time they have uttered this truth. I am listening I say, but it seems so hard. The mountain is comforting and I am a little afraid. The city is far from my mountain. You’ll find your way, wailed the wild wind. She flew from the valley and whipped at my cheeks. Go she cried! Wild women always need to test their fears. Of course she is right but can I trust what is yet to come? You can trust that the future has a mind of its own, counseled the trees. Let go of expectations. It will be as it should be.
Photography © Jeni McMillan