Not long ago I dated an English chap when I lived in France. We were nearly a country apart. I could see the Pyrenees from the ridge line where I lived and worked and he was in a quaint Alpine town.
Distance and time didn’t matter to me. Leaving after work into the darkness. The car packed and dogs ready for their next adventure. To discover unknown destinations was a thrill. Deciding on a spot to camp with the sole purpose of waking up to a spectacular view was a beautiful existence.
On one occasion this chap drove to the Pyrenees. Walking through the mountains we chatted life plans. How it might work between us when I finished my contract. He boldly stated, ‘you need to get your shit together.’ That stirred a nerve.
Exploring this comment, or indeed judgement, further and for some time, I reached a contented conclusion. I was climbing to the top of the shit heap. There were no false summits. Perhaps it was him who wasn’t.
my vision was set in shit
You see, I knew I would be walking a desert in the Middle East. I didn’t know exactly how at that stage. But the draw to the Empty Quarter, indescribable in few words, was too strong not to. Only now I realise that’s where I had to be. To unravel the past and put to bed the demons that were haunting me.
when projecting has a positive impact
The testing words that fell from another taught me a valuable lesson. The unpolishable little turd, who’d been so troubled, had begun to roll herself in glitter. She just didn’t realise it.