Everything that I have ever achieved in my life, I never did it all on my own. All that my life is up until this point, has rested on the kindness of others. Not only of others before me, but of people I have met throughout my life. Whether it’s been money, food, a place to stay, inspiration, wise words or even the things which seemed negative at first: the heat of betrayal and irritation, the coldness of silence, the sinking feeling of disappointment. Every single person I’ve met in my life has given me a gift, and that is the gift of their presence. I suppose that I am not afraid to admit that, because I know too that my presence is a gift. I am reminded many times by my friend in Switzerland, that we mustn’t forget: it is not what we do or say that gives us value, nor is it who we are – it is simply our presence in this moment. Our existence. In a time where independence seems to have become less of a joy, and more of a weapon, it feels good to let it all fall away.
Finally, I have returned, and I’ve taken the quiet, smooth energy of the sloping hills of Switzerland back to the rugged cliffs of the South of France. Although it is quiet here, it is not still. I can hear the workings of the villages below, the church bells in the morning ringing out to remind people that time is ticking by. It ominously hangs over them, even though it is only a sound. Somehow, from here I feel largely unaffected by that, almost protected. I have been experiencing an explorative kind of busy these days, not the usual pressure of lost time which dampens my spirit. In a world that moves fast, it is difficult to escape being carried away in its flow.
Productivity, or at the very least the idea that my time here must mean something, seems to be the driving force in the world. Almost everyone including myself feels the need to prove themselves, but to who? As much as I have tried to isolate myself from the rest of the world for a sense of freedom from pressure, this isolation has not been fulfilling. It has been a kind of emotional independence that has cut me off from the only sustainable source of nourishment going around: love. High up on this hill, alone, I rediscover the power of vulnerability.
Although my space is small, I have a beautiful view from my balcony. In fact, the sea is even visible in the distance. Every morning, I have been doing one of my favourite things: watching the sunrise. I have witnessed this moment over the Mediterranean from several angles, but this time it feels special. In the mornings I see the twinkling of the street lights, like stars who have planted themselves on the earth, below a yellow and orange sky. The street lights interest me in particular, because I notice that they do not simply shine, but they vibrate. Moving between bright and dark with such imperceptible rapidity.
Strangely, I see something within myself when I look at them. Constantly moving, sometimes a little dim, but above all shining. Exuding light not only to increase visibility for a few of those around them, but also for the simple beauty of glittering in the dark. I continue to watch as the sun starts to drape itself over each light, allowing them to turn off and take a rest for the day. A flock of birds often dances in the sky at this time, in a formation that looks like a spirit gliding over the town. They bless each busy little mind and heart below it, each belonging to a person who rarely bothers to look up as they are consumed by their day. I wonder, if they looked up like I am looking out at the window, then maybe, would their problems go away?
When I take the time to look at the scene before me, I feel as if it is a show that is being performed for my pleasure. If life can give me this much beauty, then what does that say about me? After the initial pang of unworthiness, I start to realise that my presence is what gives me this gift. My presence is what makes me stop and say: hang on, all of this is for me to enjoy? Suddenly, all my other problems seem small, all my longings are fulfilled, yesterday’s used energy is replenished. I can spend another day enjoying all that is provided to me, instead of complaining over what I lack. I start to see that the truth is: I lack nothing.
I am surrounded by kind people, sheltered from the rain and cold, able to eat good food and able to fill my heart full of love – ready to give out to others without a care of receiving anything in return. When I look out of my window and see the clouds moving slowly across the landscape, the smoke escaping from the chimneys and the sun slowly rising high enough to fill my room with warmth and light… I realise that everything I need is already provided to me. I do not need to do it alone, and when I look back at the adventures of my life up until this day I realise that I did none of it alone anyway. I do not need to cling to the pride that so often blinds us and prevents us from receiving the love we need. I have nothing to be proud of, because I don’t want to be proud anymore. I am free.
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