I decided to take one week off, completely off. I have given 80 workshops this year, from one to three days long and numerous talks, coaching sessions, facilitations on top of that. And I feel immensely exhausted from being in an intensive interaction with people all the time, and especially from being exposed in front of audiences continually. I just had to run away for some time, to simply be alone, not interacting. Luckily enough Marjeta fully understands my position and supports this need of mine. And kids are OK with it too. Although this is not the best way to spend the Christmas time.
So here I am, with our dear good old reliable van, that has taken us to such wonderful places that we already consider it/him to be a part of our family, in a deserted camping on the island Pag in the Adriatic sea. I wanted to do a lot of cycling in order to get my blood going and my knees back in the correct position, however since it is raining most of the time or the wind is just too heavy and too cold, not much cycling has taken place since my arrival here. But I do enjoy reading, writing, gazing at the horizon, watching a DVD a day, meditating a bit…
Reading an excellent Jack Kornfield’s book “After the Ecstasy, the Laundry” (I love the title), about what is life like after the spiritual ecstasy and awakening, brings out a lot of memories, all linked to the period of my life when I was spending years with a group of people in a semi-community, devoting all I was able to personal exploration and growth. And I realize that a deep part of me is grieving over that time and that community.
To me that community was the first true family, a group of people I felt completely safe with. We had so much in common and shared that eagerly. We were trying to reach the Truth, as we have called it, enlightenment, the meaning of life, liberation… In practical terms it meant countless days of meditating and sitting together, opening up to ourselves, to others, to life, letting out what had been hidden for so long; pain, fears, shame, anger, unmet needs, love…, and sharing it with tearful eyes and joyful laughter, and than mutually accepting it, with love and patience. An utterly new world was opening up in front of us and we were, like kids, exploring it together, cautiously, yet excitedly.
When I remember those days my heart warms up, however I also feel sad. Sad because it was such a wonderful time and the beauty of it did not survive in the real life. And I am grieving over beautiful people I have lost contact with, over that community sense, over standing with others with our souls stripped naked, crying together, breathing deeply.
And I guess this feeling of community of people sharing the innermost parts is something I am still after. Wherever I sense the single trace of a possibility of something like this I immediately respond, trying to re-create something like that. But it never truly works. The magic does not repeat. Perhaps I have changed in the meantime, perhaps the world has.