I am sitting in the yurt. It is raining and howling wind outside. I can feel it intensely as I am only sheltered from the elements by the canvas walls. Yet I am as snug as a bug in a rug. The little wood burner is on. It has been for twenty four hours. It is gently and slowly crackling away. I am content and peaceful. Albeit I do desperately need to pee. Yet I do not want to go outside into the rain. For the most part, that is how I pee these days. Outside in the open. Feet firmly planted on the grass, face tilted up to the sky. Nighttime peeing is my favourite. You wander outside fully naked and you look up and see the stars and the moon and you pee on the grass. The cool night air on your skin. The dampness of the earth under your feet. The stardust cascading upon your forehead. You hear the owls. Perhaps even a fox. You can see the warm glow from the yurt fire. You slowly rise. You inhale the dense night air slowly and deeply and very aware of every piece of you, every vibration, you wander back across the grass and return to the inside to the warm cocoon that is the yurt.
That is the poetic version that I have come to love and treasure. The original experience was Holy fucking shit I CAN NOT FUCKING PEE OUTSIDE..what is someone sees me, what if it runs down my leg. How disgusting is this! Take me back to civilisation! What have I done? What has my life become? Who am I? But somewhere along the timeline, it changed. Now, I am struggling with the concept of how life used to be and what life is to become. I am yet to discuss my thoughts or feelings on all the pieces that have transpired. I have been unable to find the words. I have been unable to articulate it with any clarity. So I have stayed mute. The environments I am currently in and the people I am currently encountering know me no other way. They have only encountered this version of me. Yet I am aware of my “other” life. The life prior to getting on the plane on the 24th April. It feels like lifetimes ago. I struggle to connect with it. Yet at the same time, I feel as though there is half a toe back there with her but the remaining pieces have launched forward and blown the former versions to shit.
It has now been two months since I lived “inside” in a house. In any sort of standard dwelling. My immersion to living a large portion outside was not easy. Yet I guess in the scheme of things it has been rather a fast transition. Not only am I living outside, I am working outside all day. I am present with Mother Nature to a new depth. Yet, it strangely feels like the very beginning of something. As though this path must and will deepen. The immersion must grow. It has certainly felt like the last layer to go. Could it be true? I do not want to get too excited as I have been fooled before. At other times of relief I had been sure I had reached the bottom, I had been sure that “that was it” Like it is some magic marker. That you run out of tears. That you run out of pain. That you hit emotional rock bottom as it is so called and then the only way is up. Well, what a load of bullshit that old tale is. I don’t think it works like that. Oh there is certainly a bottom. And then the floor falls out. And then you smack your face on the next bottom. And then the Grand Canyon opens up underneath and it begins again. You then hit every rock, every stick, every bump as you roll down that hill. It is an interesting, complex process. It lives alongside your everyday life. It isn’t fully present in every moment however, somehow it is still palpable in every breathe. It infiltrates the camp on so many levels. Yet, there is happiness at the same time. It is this odd seesaw of complex emotional shit. Yet something new is happening. A new sense of peace is invading the camp. It has snuck in ever so slightly. I am reluctant to acknowledge it fully. Just in case it frightens it away. It feels different. A sense of calmness and serenity that comes from a deep place. Oh Holy Goddess I hope with all I am that it is here to stay for a little while. Perhaps if I make it a cup of tea with a scone it will snuggle up on the couch and not be in a rush to depart? At so many stages I have begged for relief. Called out with everything that I am. Howled at the moon and willed it to come. There were certainly moments of it. But it was fleeting. But perhaps the long awaited relief has arrived?
How does one get to the relief point? Shit. I am unsure that there is an answer to that. For me, I have gone looking for it. I have searched high and low. I have looked right at the darkness. I have opened my big greeny blue eyes are stared her down like no ones business. I figured if I faced it it would speed the profess. Is that true? I don’t know. But I did know that if I did not feel it all, that it would haunt me. I tied to courageously face it. I am not sure if I did. But It certainly gave me no choice. It was so crushing that it could not be avoided. And now that some relief has arrived, I am encountering moments of guilt. Why didn’t I go deeper into the process? I knew relief would come at some stage so why was I so intent on rushing it? On pushing through? Could I have not withstood the fire with more grace and patience. Oh for fucks sake. Is nothing ever good enough? Can I not even give myself some street cred for this?
So what happens now? I am not sure. Nothing in my life is familiar. Nothing feels the same. There is no landscape that I know. No familiarity to hold on to. It is completely new. On all levels. I do not recognise myself. I do not recognise my insides. I do not recognise my outsides. You should see my dirty nails. Revolting. My hair. Scruffy does not even begin to describe it. I do not recognise my feelings. I do not recognise my thoughts. Never in my life have a felt this sense of newness. Almost refreshment. Yet it is refreshment with such depth. Freshness grounded in a life being lived. Perhaps this is where it begins? Perhaps the ”start” is finally here? I may be ready to start to move forward. It may be time to turn on my heals and begin the new road. Which seems odd as there as has been so many new beginnings and new roads over the past year more than any of my other years but they were all still within the spiral. They were in the spiral within the storm. However, it is as if the storm may have stilled. The wind has finally gone quiet. The sun is setting and I have gradually risen from the foetal position in the mud. First it was shakily to my knees. I then wiped the snot away from my nose and one by one I planted my bare feet in the dirt. I have taken a deep breath, spun on my heels and have started to very gently head north.