The rain follows the first sunny journey, appearing to quell
the euphoria. Time lapses, feet step, and I embark on my first adventure.
The refuge vehicle, summoned from The Gods on a deserted
road.
We play, we drink, we sleep- we discuss love and the
pilgrimage to Santiago- who knows the true path?
I falter, I stumble, and the eagle man brings peace to an Astorgan hillside.
Another realm- I trek blindly towards this offering. Tired,
defeated, and in need of a new belt, my misery is recorded and stored away- a
hidden treasure.
Life resumes, and the town parties- I sink into the
festival, and make pleasantries, extending to a kiss.
The spliff blows and Salamanca opens up- a blooming flower, its presence longing my stay. But alas, I must leave.
The big city unleashes its mystery, and I call on friends
who provide shelter, but the earth calls me back.
Fortresses scatter the land, and their tranquil defence
reflects my head space.
Complacency (perhaps) yields to a disastrous attempt at the
drop South, so I plunge myself into Feria: I know it’s close now.
The internal fortress strengthens, and a moments respite
leads to Magic- playmobile caves. Twilight existence personified in this
community of wayward identity.
However the strength is not to be underestimated, and I find
purpose for the final step.
Rapidly, and with internal understanding, I glide into the
greatness I have been searching for. A place of extremes- darkness and light. The
sea holds hope for some, while constantly remaining a barrier for others- I
struggle with my own initial barrier, but the gateway soon opens magnificently
and a world is brought into sharper focus.
Matrimony of the body- a clean sweep, utter satisfaction on
an uncultivated terrace.
A plastic face confirms the route- at a price- and the wind
wraps itself around the town. How much can one inhale in two days? Its beauty
is clear and unashamed- but without surrounding myself in its Western abyss, I
leave.
I left London, I left a prosperous routine, and now I leave
Marrakesh- the calm before the storm. I swam and now I prepare to fly- the
final mode of transport. The final step, and arguably the greatest since the
first ferry, two months ago.
Oh how time flies, and now I fly too. At one with the
forces, for now- a product of my journey.
A new language, new plans and new lands- for that I’m
grateful. Continued strength, reinforced ambition and the process of the Self-
for that I’m tranquil.
The next step- there
is always a next step- is the anticipated return. The water is calm, but the
current remains strong- a force that can easily pull one under or elevate you
to the sky.
The cycle continues, and a braver man would appreciate The
Gods- those untouchable ideals of fate and destiny. I prefer to appreciate
their magic, rather than decipher their purpose.
Perhaps this is wise, or merely a delayed struggle- why
fight against the current when the water is flowing in the right direction?
One step at a time is the only way, when the process is
simplified to its most tranquil simplicity.
Stepping off the plane will undoubtedly feel huge, but I can
take courage in the small steps I have taken, nearly always managing to find my
balance.
I have faith that equilibrium will be restored, but the
inevitable wobbles and falls await all- and it’s the equilibrium we find in
ourselves which takes centre stage.
