Above: An old painting of mine from 2003 that I discovered yesterday at my brother’s apartment.
Here I am. I write this blog not really knowing what to say.
I didn’t pass through any medival towns today. No castles. No reception by monks on mountain perched monasteries. I didn’t even have a flat tire.
I guess the latter is a good thing. My bike is warm and cosy at a monastery in Assisi.
Am I warm and cozy? Yeah, technically. I am quite conscious however that my healing process isn’t just about repairing my body. As a Tao sage says: “Changing the surface of a body is easy, changing the food habits is difficult, changing real cause of the problem– very difficult.”
So here I am. Things are comfortable and cozy, but… intense. To really heal means facing things that go way way back. No better place than my parent’s house really to do that. But my goodness, this is going to be… very difficult.
My adventures are now on the inside.
And I thought cycling into an unknown country, in the winter, without knowing the language, or having any friends, was difficult. The stuff I have to face now pales in comparison. I find the idea of writing about some of these things on my blog absolutely unimaginable.
But why? Its pure personal fear. A fear to face. Maybe writing them out, putting into blog sunshine will be healing. It would sure be interesting to read.
