Thursday April 13th, 2023 Luberon Valley, France What constitutes happiness? In solo travel in a van, everything is more pronounced. Locked into your mood, you notice its migration from one state to another. In city life, people offset this wilderness of solitude. There, happiness exists in the energy of exchange. As a byproduct of this interplay, happiness manifests as a gift. It's easy to skip over this realisation in city life. Like a whisper in a crowded room, we miss it in the noise. You protect your space and take "your receiving" for granted. The paradox? It can leave you more alienated than in the vastest outback. Though loneliness has grated on this trip, I am grateful for its lessons. Solo travel offers you the opportunity not just to make discoveries in yourself, but to appreciate the gifts which hide in your own life. Takeaways: 1) Experiencing the opposite reveals what we take for granted. 2) Renewing our appreciation of things takes work & courage. 3) Exploring the edge of yourself can be the threshold for growth. Friday April 14th, 2023 St-Martin-de-Castillion Life started singing through me, as if by accident. In my aloneness, I felt connected to everyone. My sense of wonder awakened. I wanted to know the name of things. Especially; I noticed my noticing: How the ever-changing clouds drift like icebergs over St-Martin; itself nestled into the clifftops as if chiselled by Braque. How yesterday I stumbled upon a magic alcove and knew it was time to begin writing. How I realised, suddenly, it was time to pack and descend the mountain. How a pitstop led to a carafe of wine with restaurant owner Guillaume. How the wind this morning wavers between Siberian and Savannah, unsure of its direction. It's rather like us; blowing this way and that, sometimes hot, sometimes cold. Its lesson? That our direction is less important than our willingness to dance with things. Today I surprised myself. I stopped trying to seize hold of my mood and let the mania of things pass through me. Part of our trouble is we want to know that which we are. I did for years. All this self-questioning. A rite of passage. I have arrived somewhere. Like my journey, it is not fixed. Like the wind, it is drifting. You stop looking for your source when you become your source. The wind is not questioning itself. It has no time to; it's too busy flirting with that Oregon White Oak here, that Scots Pine there. Just because it's in two places simultaneously doesn't mean it's divided. Stop seeing your warring selves as in conflict. Rather, recognise they are interplaying parts of you. Let your contradictions emerge upon this mosaic. Do you think the village is interesting without the perspective of the landscape? Everything is part of the whole. That means all of you. Why do you resist dancing with Shiva? Why do you think Jesus never wrote anything down? Surely it would have been more trustworthy than the account of humans? Paul never even met him, yet the church is built on his word. No, Jesus could not fragment the whole. He had to represent all things through his action. And as for Paul. Well, his moment of revelation happened when he fell from his horse. It is only upon hitting the ground that we begin our journey. Revelation; forever linked to its landing. Resurrection; forever bound to its breaking. And so, my thoughts pitter-patter with the indecisive wind. I don't have a Shiva, but I do have a Donna. I don't have a goal, but I do wind along with the wind...
§--§ The great luck of my journey: picking up a map of the Luberon Valley in Cucuron. Before, I was driving into nowhere. I wonder if it's normal? To be so unintentional about where you are going. Then again, you find the most interesting islands while rudderless at sea. Or shipwrecked for that matter. Hmm, these travel metaphors threaten to reflect my life. Ignore! In any case, this magic map has set the parameters for my wandering. Here's what it decrees: 1) Circle the mountains 2) Stay within the Luberon Valley 3) Take it village by village Though these towns are the stars I orientate myself by, I am more interested in the galaxies between them. My refuges so far? A mound of dirt that hid me from the farm. An olive field that became my fiefdom. The mountain impasse which healed my heart. The car park which housed my inebriation. These places represent my Now: Neither here nor there, but rejuvenating in the outlands. Pick up the anchor. Bind yourself to the mast. Await the wind. Surrender to the storm. Awaken in new worlds! There's my five-year plan. What's yours? Saturday 15th April St-Saturnin-les-Apt My mood emigrates from where it was to where it is. We want change but not the discomfort of going through it. So I surrendered. I accepted my aloneness. In this act, the world entered my heart. I was parked in an impasse, a perfect observation point to marvel at St-Martin-de Castillon. There, I read this passage by Susan Sontag: "Cézanne teaches us to see what is there, rather than what we expect to see". The same can be said of ourselves too. And with this thought, I started getting out of my own way. The sun burst through the clouds and all things fizzed with happiness. Invited into Spring's procession, I dared name myself its conductor. Around me, all things were in a state of emergence and I, with it. I flashed my baton here and the white wall rocket quivered. The trees, fearful of missing their queue trembled against the wind in anticipation. What are you, strange little creature? Yes, of course, you are invited to the party, little Ladybug! Unsure what to call the field of Royal Yellow skipping into the horizon, I looked them up and laughed at the bumbling eccentricity of botanists - it's a field of Annual bastard cabbage! Hard how nick-names stick! Behind me, a Scots pine, towering over Donna, made me think of home. The hair on my back bristled. I could hear the rumble of Murrayfield, the ricochet of "A Flower of Scotland", remember Captain David Sole's slow walk from the tunnel in 1990. When you meet your enemy: slow walk. How the English buckled amidst the mud, blood and thistles that day. Today was the day I arrived in my journey. We are always in motion but must have the courage to arrive. Welcome your emotions no matter the colour. Creativity unlocks where motion & arrival intersect. It is the act of acceptance, and surrender, which provides the key. §--§ Ideas are the new gold: Create space. Formulate. Emerge. Create. Iterate. §--§ The diary below continues for my paid subscribers. These are more personal posts which I wish to keep for my private supporters: 1. A night during which my mood plummeted 2. Confronting the hard questions raised by single life in middle age. 3. Reflections on freedom, loneliness, and hope for balance. 4. Pictures from the journey
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