Behind the brown shutters are windows and doors with bright red frames. Opening these are how a sun kissed morning begins in Tuscany. Closing them after a long and late night spent eating and chatting is how evenings in Tuscany end.
Food that is grown under kiss of the sun makes for a perfect lunch. There’s a flavour that can’t be ignored. And a reminder of how simple one’s lunch can be.
Herbs for the kitchen, grown in the garden are illuminated by the kiss of the sun.
A healthy glow and contented manner, the evidence of a sun kissed boy’s day of play.
A house built to withstand the kiss of the sun. Terracotta tiles on the floor and in the ceiling, thick walls of concrete and brick archways.
The kiss of the sun willing a writer to write on. A day spent in the first 13,000 words of a story. A memoir of a long walk and a time leading towards this life now. A time where questions were asked, actions were taken and the leap of faith that happened. The Tuscan sun enabling the needs of all to be met and comfort to the writer when the doubts set in. The power of his kiss is strong. Write, write he assertively guides. Now is the time. It matters not if the written words see me, the light of day. It matters they are written. That the writer writes the story. For her. Her story.
*edited to change her to him, my instinct was that the sun is a more masculine energy and a little note from a friend confirmed this. xx
In response to last week’s post a few songs were sung … my friends Paula and Nicole sang:
“Hey Fran – Nijmegen to Veirlingsbeek – 50kms … we all have a song to sing … and so do our sisters … so one day we can all sing as one … “
Thank you for enchanting my life you two wild women.
And Lizzy was singing her favourite tune along the Murray River in Corowa with her favourite song … ‘road trips, new vistas, campfires’!
Hope we get to camp together one day Lizzy!
It took a while for me to get stated this morning. Yesterday knackered me. Lucky the B & B served up a euro breakfast. I could drag my ‘getting started’ out just a bit longer.
Not that I am complaining I like to push myself to the edge sometimes … it makes me know I’m alive. I am hungry to know I am alive. Perhaps that is why I find comfort in the extremes. This is something I thought a lot about today, my desire to sit in the extremes, the all or the nothing’ness.
Sleep wasn’t easy to come by last night. It seems staying in a B&B is worse for zz’s than lying amongst the snorers in the Albergue’s. There was the bar fight down below at about 10pm that ended with a car screeching off into the night. And there were the 1am party goers who arrived back and acted like they were the only people on the planet!
For the first time in a long time I didn’t wake desperate to get hiking. Along the camino lights out was generally 10pm and it’s only said snoring that will wake you. Don’t get me wrong that is a massive challenge in itself but at least it is not consciously inconsiderate. I am considering taking a tent on my next over nighter, especially now that the weather is warmer.
You never know who you will meet along a camino, a walk. These are the moments I love. The chance meeting, conversation, serendipitous moment. As I set out I missed a turn off and as a result I had to find my way back onto The Pieterpad.
I walked a way with this local. Everyone in this town had a camino story to tell. The publican told me of two locals who had walked from here (Veirlingsbeek) to Santiago de Compostela. I haven’t done the maths here but I think that is possibly a far longer journey than my one towards Rome. This local, he also had a story. The story of his neighbour.
His neighbours (husband and wife) had planned to walk the camino together. Then one day she died. So what do you think his 65 year old neighbour, let’s call him Kees (a good Dutch name) did? After the funeral Kees packed his back pack and left for Santiago. He left from his front door and he walked for three months until he reached Santiago. I’m guessing Kees walked through his grief and towards the next phase of his life. This story reminded me of why I’m here. It reminded me why I am a long way from home and it reminded me that this is home.
I am here because I don’t want to wait for an opportunity that might not come. I live in the extremes because I am hungry to feel life and to explore, seek, create meaning – whatever it is that you like to call it. I chase the is’ness, the feeling of being amongst something that is alive, the feeling that everything has meaning. And the people I meet along the way … they remind me of this. They are my way markers.
And this is why I am forever walking forward, open to what lays ahead. Every now and then I get a little trapped in my thinking but usually that is because I’m walking backwards or am caught in the immediateness of those who situationally surround my life.
Today as I walked tiredly on I did something I don’t usually do. I stopped half way. I ordered a coffee and I looked up the bus timetable. And then I took the three hour journey home, 25kms short of my planned destination. I decided I would go a little more gently on myself. I would listen to my body. I have a long way to walk with this body of mine and perhaps in challenging my extremeness I could reframe said extremeness.
I would begin to go extremely gentle on myself moving forwards. I would be ok with all the things I don’t get done when I’m in stop mode. I would, perhaps, try to capture the ‘is’ness’ of escaping onto the trail without the physicality. I think this has been alluding me.
I would seek to only live in the currency of what feels right to ensure the path I take is the one for me.
What would that look like? And what would that create space for? Ok, I can tell you that would look like physically … a women with crappy toenails because man I walked hard yesterday. It would also, I imagine, be about finding firmer ground and questioning the ego I stop with and the ego I walk with.
‘Don’t spend a lot of time trying to find yourself. Spend time creating yourself into a person you’ll be proud of.’ ~ Anon
The morning of a hike is no different to most days, it has it’s own rituals. The packing of my pack, the consideration of what food and gear I’ll need. The anticipation (good energy) builds as the time to leave gets closer. These hikes are taking me towards Rome and there is something quite remarkable about that. Every stage is precious. A day’s worth of hours. The gentle rhythm of placing one foot in front of the other as my thoughts dance around my mind. My senses dictating the waltz.
I’ve never thought of The Netherlands as a country with big rivers. Canals and dykes yes … we’ve all seen the canals of Amsterdam but the Rhine no I always imagined that a German big river, you? Or perhaps I’ve seen too many Rhine cruise for retirees tours advertised ;) But back to The Netherlands, it is in fact a country of BIG rivers! Today I walked along the Waal, the Dutch distributary of the Rhine. An important river that links Germany with the port of Rotterdam. And yes very much in use … it is not something we think of as Australians is it? Rivers as thoroughfares to transport goods. I had to cross it at one stage … the only way you can – by barge!
It was a day of rain and water. So. Much. Rain. So. Much. Water.
I was able to take myself off grid (off the main road … remember from the last stage The Netherlands doesn’t have wild) and find myself alongside the water right from the beginning. It’s a little bit of a feat actually that I found myself here. Along the last walk Gerald used an app called MAPS.ME after the walk I downloaded it. I’m going to share something with you … I never thought I’d be able to use it. I am not the best at navigation and I am a creature of habit (surely google maps would do). But faced with the busy main road that google was sending me on and a national park entrance to my right I decided to bite the bullet and give it a go!
What do you know! I was straight into a beautiful wooded reserve with hills (tiny hills … this is still The Netherlands peeps) and water as far as the eyes could see. So much bliss as the sounds of the wind rustled through the branches. I’d been sharing my morning on my stories and at this point I logged of with a see you friends … gone hiking! There would be time on the train home and here to update and share the experience, I needed to live it. I’d just achieved something getting off road and I wanted to be amongst those trees and also open to see what else would show itself to me.
I say it was a feat because a. I actually tried something I had thought I’d never master (an off road map ap) and b. that felt pretty darn strong to have the courage to trust myself, that I’d find my way. I only had to find my way through one barbed wire fence, LOL. No rips. Navigation is a skill I’ll need for later in the trek and here I am getting to know it before I’ll need it. And let’s be honest it’s a safe place to practice … you can’t get lost here! I love that about my walks, they are safe places to practice trusting myself. Walks are where I do my best thinking … without really trying. Circles that have previously gone around and around suddenly open up. Checking in with yourself happens when you go for a long walk.
For me this hike is an anchor into living a creative life. And so I create a margin for it to exist. I not only block out days on weekends for me to go and hike … I also try to walk daily. If I walk today then tomorrow I am not under pressure to walk the next day and so on and so on. A margin is something we can give or set for ourselves. It’s extra space … it’s not just enough space to fit everything in. It’s blowing it wide open – it’s saying that our creative pursuits are too important to put off. And on days like today where the mercury retrograde has me in ‘uneasy’ street I make sense of it by writing about my project. Nope, I didn’t walk today … just on this page. Same kind of peace, strength.
In the wide open space, the margin, we create the holy grail – we’re no longer forcing, fighting and fitting it in. We are living creatively and it’s free to do as the big rivers do – to flow.
Of course some days we have to trudge through … like the last 10kms of this 33km walk. The city of Nijmegen was in the distance as I wound my way along a 10km stretch of road. I was so pleased to make it into this town, and the idea of getting home and dry, that I even sprinted the last 500 metres to make the train. Aaah but that trudge is far more pleasant when the margin is there for that bit of … ‘whatever it is’ … that takes you along on the ride of the flowing river!
As the days become shorter and the air crisper there is a new constant in my days. Di luna. Yes, her majesty – the moon. (ps the clip above provides a good background sound to this post). Now I don’t profess to know much about the moon I rely on others to tell me where she is, what she’s doing and what that means for me. But, I do know this – if you’re looking for something magical to happen in your life you could start there. Start with the moon. Dance in her light. Charge with her energy.
Di Luna, she is there when I wake and long before I go to sleep at night as we move into the darker months here. Her lunar phases unfolding before my eyes week by week as I cycle my children to their evening sport practice. Soon we will also be riding to school under the light of the moon.
The moon – something we can take for granted in our increasingly noisy, blamey, scared entitled plastic world. Glory we can forget to notice … and yet I think we are screaming for the kind of magic the moon gives us. There’s something mystical and soothing about being in the presence of the moon. Wiser, greater and more precious than anything the mall or the memes can sell us. Peace. She can of course be a bit scary in all her glory … asking us to stand honestly in her presence. Honesty isn’t always easy amongst rush, noise and plastic. Unsure? Let the moon guide you – that’s where you’ll find wild adventure and an escape or break from fake. Keep it wild from where we stand 101 friends.
Both the moon and a special moon (knowing) friend have been orbiting in my world the past few years, (there’s a pun for the week for you Annette) and I believe they have been slowly giving me clues to help find magic. A deep magic. As much as I love Harry Potter I know we can’t really shake a wand and make something happen … we need to be a part of making it happen.
Isn’t it wonderful though to be able to drift into fantasy. Fantasy reminds us of the value of magic. Perhaps indulging in fantasy takes us closer to our reality? Perhaps there is more of a fine line between the two than we realise? Magic happens when we bravely step into life seeking to believe there is meaning beyond the rush, noise and the plastic.
I truly believe we can learn about life and ourselves in the company of the moon (all nature really but I’m currently in a moon phase). Along the camino, particularly my last one in September I walked most mornings under the moonlight. It taught me a lot about fear and as scary as it was it was also exhilarating.
This week I took myself out running and misjudged the sunset. Again, I found myself alone in the moonlight. We live in a world where solace is not often sought amongst the seasons nor the elements. We seek only to be comfortable and to control them. And yet every time I loosen my grip, trust what’s uncomfortable and unknown and step into solitude in nature I begin to uncover more of what’s true.
During my run I discovered where the my magic will come from this winter. I’ll be making my own illuminated by the moonlight . Perhaps she’ll help me refine those wild truths my old friend, the courageously daring feeling wind shook up these past few winters.
Ag siúl go maith,
Fran x
PS My first half marathon starts at midnight – yep it’s a night run, ironic that!
I wrote a deep and long winded post this morning. One with lots of layers and words … and it took me hours, my whole morning. The kind of post that tends to be relatable because many of us share similar feelings. But it didn’t feel great writing it and I’m not going to post it. I realised I was actually writing myself an excuse piece. I was telling a story about how I felt about recent situations that have annoyed me. (I used the phrase ‘wounded by words’ in the piece). I was basically blaming rather than facing.
Basically I was blaming the fact that I don’t feel comfortable around a lot of people and it’s in the facing of truth that we find our way past an obstacle. Often the obstacle is staring back at us, you know the person we see in the mirror. That is where the story is.
The reason I write and share, my purpose, has always been to write myself forward and to connect. It’s a kind of reaching for what I need. Perhaps you do it too or maybe you’re into mood boards it’s basically the same, it’s manifesting. So instead of feeling wounded by situations, what’s really bothering me.
It turns out it’s me. Of course, hello mirror. I’m annoying myself. I am the one who is walking into situations and conversations that aren’t me, not away from them. I’m the one who is struggling with motivation and I’m the one who is walking the tightrope between where I want to be and where I am. Eeer I know the view will be breathtaking … when I stop tripping myself up.
Now I have a choice. I can tell myself the same story and find some comfort in projecting the shit that annoys me OR I can tell myself the truth.
JUMP ABOARD IF YOU DARE
Truth.
Always.
It’s how we grow.
Unpack the story.
Be honest.
Deeper.
It’s closer than you think.
What is hard?
Motivation is hard.
Discipline is hard.
Saying no can be hard.
Conflict is hard.
Body changes are hard.
Feeling lonely amongst people is hard.
You know you have this.
It’s within your grasp, if you dare.
Already, you have a plan.
So begin.
Unravel.
Have a bath, drink a litre of water while you’re in there and put on a mud mask. Hormonal face – I’ll soothe you.
Great.
Feels better already.
Decide to write this story (in said bath).
It’s true your hormones are changing.
Age happens.
Transition.
So you NEED to change.
Time to get on a new ride.
The alcohol has gone perhaps it’s time for the coffee too?
Yes, your adrenals need nurturing.
It’s your soul that needs the fire.
It always has.
Share it with your secret keeper.
Make a commitment to yourself.
Recognise how clever you are.
(Going for a massage your first thought would be have amazing but so is a warm bath and a face mask and it’s basically free.)
Excellent.
Now you’re being kind to yourself.
It’s the best place to start.
It’s always about small steps.
Start where you are.
Make one list.
We’ve arrived at the destination.
Now for the transition.
There are new goals ahead for you.
You have already thrown out the anchors.
It’s your turn now.
You are allowed to take up space.
Choose some non-negotiable’s for a week.
Start there.
– When you’re wounded by small talk write a deep long letter to a soul sister and send it. You’ll realise all the things you really want to talk about and say.
– Exercise each day. Endorphins matter. Nature holds the answers for you.
– The coffee, you know it’s got to go. Trust yourself.
– Water, yes more. Two litres minimum a day.
– Write when you need to reach, write when you have something to say. Write when you need to find the door. Write to offer a door. It’s always your way home.
– Choose wisely who you confide in … they will either ride with you or be the ones who weigh you down.
That’s enough.
It’s time to move.
Change is happening.
Stay close.
Scramble on the ride.
Don’t miss the call.
Now excuse me dear friends, I must go for a walk amongst autumn.
Slower Family Travels 