Where is the time going? I'm losing track. I'm feeling less and less inclined to turn on my laptop, or even my phone. More and more I'm finding myself able to enjoy each moment. I'm noticing the flowers - the bottlebrush (like zingy pot scourers), the mimosa, the orange blossom (oh heady, heady aside in a dell), the jasmine (almost overwhelming, almost sickly), the honeysuckle (bigger, brasher than at home but shy of scent, as if it feels it can't compete with its more powerfully olfactory neighbours), 'look at me!' bourganvillea and, 'no, look at ME' hibiscus. And then there are the roses. Oh the roses, crimson, carmine, tequila sunrise, orange sorbet with a scent so deep and sweet. They lure me in a way they never did before.
One day, I forget which, we went to the beach, bundled in a minivan, like a school trip. The sun went shy but it didn't matter. Four of us went down to the shore, and three of us walked through the shiver-cold water along the sweep of the bay. Coincidences abounded. We found we knew people in common; we'd been to the same places. For heaven's sake, three of us had all worked at the same office. Clare and I had even been at the same university, at exactly the same time. We lived in the same student flats one year. How strange is that? So we swapped stories of bands we'd seen, people we knew, places we'd been. It was the most curious, delicious, wild mind-loop, as old memory files were awoken; old cells rejiggled, old faces summoned (where are they now? who are they now?).
We're a harmonious group. A kind group. Our ages range from 33 - 78, our homes span across Europe. So, while I spend a fair bit of time on my own, I also spend time with others, learning from them, enjoying their stories, sometimes telling mine. And I also get to talk to the people who live here - because this place runs partly like a sort of community. People come and live here and work for various lengths of time - upwards of three months usually.
Anyhow, the rest continues as always - yoga, juice, cleansing through water and fire, meditation (formal and informal), letting go, letting go, letting go... Shedding not just weight and toxins, the accumulated dross that accumulates when you eat badly, drink badly, but also the old tensions, emotions that no longer serve, the past, the fear. Leaving one feeling just so light, light, bright and full of...love. Corny? Maybe. But you know what? It's a much nicer way to feel and be and live than holding on and shivering with fear.