Memoir Writing of Love & Loss
I missed the point of the instructions
Was I not listening? Did I not hear?
Did I do something wrong?
Is it a matter of language?
What I did hear is I can also write about
what I am experiencing now, right here in the moment…
My thoughts go back to this place in Spain
Where I tasted Gestalt for the first time
It was a spiritual place
View at the Bay and the Mediterranean and the Mountains
White mountains, mostly bare
Although there were some scrub bushes
That always looked green in a spring way
We were housed in a fortress built by the Moors
So the community would be able to defend themselves
when needed. Created centuries ago.
Now we were there. Forty Gestalt students.
Seen by the people of the villages near us
as El Loco’s, the Fools…
Knowing this made being there even more exciting
El Loco’s because we swam and sun bathed naked
Meditated under trees, walked in silence
For me it seemed weird too in the beginning:
sit for an hour in the same spot
Look at a piece of ground not bigger than one square meter
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There I sat in the blazing sun looking at a tiny plant
Surrounded by other plants.
Just one of them seemed to make contact with me
By stretching its fragile leaves towards me
I could not believe my eyes
I must be making this up.
Wasn’t there a flow of wind?
But no. The other plants were perfectly at rest.
This was not about the wind, but about something else.
When the hour went on I became more and more fascinated
by my plant? ‘My’? Was it?
If it was ‘my’ plant, did it ask for my help?
Did I have to visit it every day to see if it needed me.
Then a soft voice inside me let me know:
this plant is on her own. Just like you are.
It can take care of itself, just like you can.
I relaxed end felt peace streaming into me.
O, now I knew, I as well as this plant,
am part of a bigger whole. ?
Connected by the same loving energy.
?
Memoir writing about Love & Loss with Iris Fodor
My thoughts went back to this top experience of forty years ago
More in To C 23 To Give & To Receive
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