today, i woke early, feeling i have a cold. "please no," i pleaded, as if that might help. "not now. not with the island time coming, and with all the tasks and also, with all the good things that wait today."
then i thought again: maybe it's not a cold. maybe it's spring allergy, finally, after all. i tried to get back to sleep again.
now i am up, and still try to figure out what it is. there also is mild nausea. on the other hand, i felt like coffee, which is brewing right now. i also did some yoga: greeting of the (invisible) sun. and a extra tree posture, for the cherry tree that is in bloom now.
5 days to the island. here's a bit of it, already, a morning walk and an island dream, noted on another 23rd of April, one that was island time already:
Monday, 23rd April, Mallorca
this morning, i went to the ocean again ~
there is something so vivid about ocean water, and this huge surface it forms. while sitting on my favourite bolder for sunrise, i looked at the water surface, and saw it like Cezanne must have seen it: strokes of brush, moving. a water painting, really.
on the way back to the bungalow, i walked past the rose bushes that are growing here. since we arrived, they started to form petals. now yesterday, the first petals opened – one at each rose bush. one in white, one in pink, one in deep red. it made me think of my roses back home. and of the garden. the flowers that are opening there, without me. smile.
from the roses, it was just steps to the to chakra tree - the one that stands opposite our terrace, the one that is a focus point when i do yoga here, and that even was part of one of the yoga lessons last year. this morning, it made me think of that lesson, and of the two yoga lessons i miss while being here.
but then, the lessons will be there when i return. and it was missing the lessons that made me visit Margot before i left, which was like a little lesson in itself, with the foot massage she gave, which made me take my massage book here – a book i carried in the backpack from Thailand home once. i like this, all those little turns. and i brought another perfect book: Haruki Murakami, “Kafka am Strand ” – “Kafka on the beach”. with the original title being: “Umibe No Kafuka”. like the Muschg book, it is about a journey to another place. a journey that includes a library with haiku books, a man that can talk with cats, and japanese believes and sayings. like this one, an advice for travelling and for living:
Auf Reisen, ein Gefährte
im Leben, Mitgefühl
On journeys, a companion
in life, compassion
and i had an island dream. which probably is connected to the drive to the ermitage yesterday, this small monastry on a hill. in the dream, i was in a building that held a room that was mine. but the room, it was painted and decorated by someone else. it still had colours and patterns someone else choose. i was free to change it, but i hadn't found the energy yet to decide for the colours i wanted, for the patterns. so many to choose from. they were all in a large area, open to access, open to take and try. there were lamps there, too. sources of light. all you had to do was to go there, and find the one you wanted, and then take it with you, and see if it fitted. and you could return, to try another. so you didn't even need to get it right on first try. when i finally went there, i expected the area to be crowded, to be full of people looking for the colours and patterns and lights that felt of most benefit for their room, for their life, but not so. there were huge halls, with lots of shelfs, but the floors beneath them were almost empty.
too bad the dream ended before i saw the colours and pattens and the lamp i choose, i first thought when i woke. but then, the dream wasn't about choosing things. but about going to the place of finding what's right for us, now.