Lifting the Fog - some gentle reminders for the tail end of winter

This article also appears in Elephant Journal, published February 9th 2013
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/02/lifting-the-fog-catherine-wilkie/

When the fog lifts...

The last week has had a bite to it. No complaints from my side of the house. I'd trade the grey and damp mundane for the drama of the Irish landscape cloaked in a thick freezing fog by morning, sun  peeking through by midday to warm the frozen fields any day. It's back to slow driving again, and frost covered windscreens in the morning. But it's magical. And bonus - the light has started to filter into the Holly Cottage kitchen by 7.30am, fading only at a generous 5.30pm evening time. I hardly know myself! Leaving the office in daylight, being able to view the Holly Cottage garden for at least 15mins when i land home every evening - it certainly lifts the spirits and makes one think that we made it through the worst of it all for this winter. 

Readers following www.hcottage.blogspot.ie will be aware that I wallowed in self pity last week as I bemoaned the horror of winter. Sorry for that. It was getting me down, or rather I was letting it get me down. It just seems to go on for so long, and no hint of sunshine for us lovers of the light. Urged on by the will to make it better I've been exploring buddhist philosophy to try to refresh and stir my own way of dealing with it. I was led to was is called in buddhism The Four Reminders. Apologies to those who are better versed in these matters, but I found some reminders for myself of the basic fundamentals of our human existence that really do get crowded out when we - please note I can only speak for my own dark moments - are buried in self pity and self interest.

The Four Reminders as explained in This Precious Life by Khandro Rinpoche (Tibetan nun, living in the US) are (paraphrased heavily) life is precious, life is finite, there is invariably suffering (I know - doom and gloom anyone, but wait!) and the life we lead, the decisions and actions we take all has an impact on the overall well being of the world we live our lives in - aka karma. Not so sweetness and light eh ;) Roughly translated to street speak - You get one life. It's the most precious thing you'll ever own/experience. You're completely responsible for that body and the life you live - so you really owe it to yourself to quit dallying and get living (flashback to that line in The Shawshank Redemption). There will be challenges, don't let them become insurmountable obstacles - just do it, slow, steady and consistently. And be the best you can be, it makes a difference to you and the world. In more detail...

Reminder 1: Life is precious. Think about it. The odds of you and I being here at this time, in this place. The gift of the amazing body we have that is essentially at minimum a complex of atoms and energy that can move, breathe, eat and taste amazing foods, see wondrous things and experience the world around us. And what is the world around us? Sun and moon and stars and trees and bees and ocean and coral and pandas and other people and structures living and non-living - all supporting us and there for us to experience - or ignore - whatever we choose. We get a scare every now and then, and something happens when we realise it could be taken from us at any time....leading onto.....

Seize moments of wonder ;)

Reminder 2: This life an't forever. This is the reminder of the impermanence of life. This one has the power to gather momentum. This realisation creates the urgency to live, really live. Imagine choosing to ignore this and going through your life in a haze of habit and un-thinking - ignorance I guess you call it, or taking life for granted, and then at the moment it might all be taken away, realising that it wasn't at all what you wanted it to be. It was a mistake. This is one of my own greatest fears - I admit it freely - to not pursue the chances that come, to choose the comfort and the monotony of the familiar when the unknown which is often so scary (in our minds) but so exhilarating (in reality). I did a skydive over two years - literally jumped out of a moving plane entrusting my life to my skilled tandem skydive expert. It was frightening, seemed completely ludicrous at the time as we climbed to 10,000 feet and then regardless of innate fear and self protecting mechanisms inbuilt since the dawn of human,  we flung ourselves to the mercy of the sky. As soon as it was done, I wanted to get back up there and do it again. I have a moment locked in my brain when we drifted, glided, gracefully waltzed down an imaginary skyslide and the world below was a distant dream. Beautiful.

Reminder 3: Suffering. Now, there's a whole lot of hells described in This Precious Life - my least favorite being the extreme cold hells that seem to be a living reality on some January days. I can't really relate to these ideas as described, but I take the reminder of Suffering as a form of reminding us that no matter how bad things are they could be a whole lot worse. Or that we need to examine our own suffering and realise whether it is self-inflicted - born of habit and destructive tendencies - and do we play a role in its continued existence. If we recognise that we are at least part of the cause of our own suffering, it's really our responsibility to deal with it and give ourself the chance to escape a vicious circle of self hurt. Like any form of addiction. A tough one I know. Sometimes the suffering is created completely by our own minds, and the inability to deal with it and get rid of it, a result of us preferring to hold onto the comfort of suffering and clinging again to what we know. And that's pretty sad. 

Reminder 4: Karma. This is a complex one - and please refer to more learned texts and knowledgeable teachings. I interpret Karma as us taking responsibility for our own lives, for the cause and effect of us. Being aware of how we treat ourselves and others. Our thoughts and actions impact of so many aspects of life that we really do have the power to bring peace and love (man) or that whole suite of negativity that brings no joy but anger, aggression, jealousy and pain. I know that given the choice we would all choose the positive, but how difficult is that when old hurts rise when one encounters a less than pleasant memory from the past? Or how easy it is to envy others instead of being happy for their fortune and getting on with realizing our own. These last few days I've been wishing January away and wishing for another life in a warmer climate and a Mediterranean substitute for Holly Cottage. That is so not good for the soul!

What's a gal to do? Well, I am sticking with my yoga practice - even though it's half hearted some days - don't let self criticism knock you down. Integral to the various postures (asanas) are the breathing (pranayama) and my resolve to gift myself at least 20mins every day of meditation. Some days those 20mins are calm and concentrated, and others it feels like I have a spaghetti junctions of thoughts between my ears and looping around the back of my eyes. But I see the difference already. I trust in the teachings of those who have learned before me and shared their journeys openly and honestly. I trust in my own intuition to help dissolve the myths and habits and thoughts that fool and misguide us everyday. 

And so, everyday I will remind myself how great it is to be alive and that I'm the one holding the wheel and controlling the gears. The goal is self realisation and maybe even enlightenment, and why not? Baby steps.

There is so much to learn and figure out in terms of our own habitual tendencies and behaviours, and how we owe it to ourselves to realise the best experience of living this precious life as far and as completely as possible. And so, worth exploring these Four Reminders. Taking time to remind ourselves. I know for me that it will mean changing some old entrenched habits and maybe not realising the effect for some time. Then it may be immediate. One thing's for sure, once you take responsibility for your own happiness then there's no shifting blame, no avoidance of reality and no easy way out. Surely this is the greatest challenge of our lives but the one that can transform us from barely living to joyously and blissfully-aware-experiencing?

Like lifting the fog on a freezing winter land and suddenly seeing and feeling a sun that was giving, and loving, and shining there all the time. 

Because January Hurts

A delicate beauty in a cold and harsh world

January hurts. 

We've made it kicking leaves through the amber tinted days of autumn. I even relished the nipping cold as the trees were undone in November and the sun sank to its lowest on the horizon through December. We bustled and rummaged our way through the Christmas season, glad for the comfort of brightly coloured lights draped on rooftops outdoors and the scattered tinsel that clung to lovingly decorated trees brought indoors to guard carefully wrapped presents.  New Year's was quiet and passive - great to be setting off on another temporal voyage, great to mark the start of the next chapter. 

But now. I'm stuck. Badly. It's not even the end of January. Still only the middle of it and it hurts!!! 

Still dark in the mornings - no more lying in and sleeping until the sun rises to ease the pain, holidays are truly done. Still cold and wet, still cutting breezes come to taunt us from the wild atlantic sea that batters our western shore. Still only a glimpse of sunshine on any given day. But when it does break through - well, the dark grey is transformed into a glorious golden that stirs the fire in an otherwise low activity fireplace - the fireplace that is the internal hearth. 

I was struggling with this the last few weeks. I couldn't quite explain my lack lustre and lack of enthusiasm, it was just a lingering mood. Now that I've recognised it for what it is - well, you see instead of making me feel worse I feel remarkably better! You see, we can try to pretend that everything is ok, that we are totally on top of things. But that just makes it all the more self delusional and unresolvable. But if - if - we recognise the problem, when we see it's face and call it by its name.....ay, there's real honesty and wisdom. Give the nagging feeling a name, give it a face. Then we are ready for the cure. Some may call it a sign of weakness. But I call it a huge leap in self honesty and accepting that we're not always as strong as we might like to think.

So what's the cure for January you might ask? Learn to love it. Re-wire the brain. Detach. Take each moment as it comes and see the wonder in it. 

In the meantime, here is one simple and true symbol of all that is fantastic and wonderful about January. Our drop of snow, our snowdrop, our first sign of spring and testament that beauty can be the face of the strongest and most defiant force though it wear a delicate and seemingly vulnerable coat. 

Snowdrops

Something from the archives - A Mercantour Adventure

This is a short review article I wrote on returning from a most memorable holiday in the Mercantour National Park in the South of France. I am posting it after finding my picture still in the weblink for it!!! It is such a wonderful place and the photos make you excited for summer - exactly what we need on a cold and wet January night..

Despite the bumpy and stony shoreline, the beach in Nice looked inviting. I had just landed that morning on the (too) early flight from a wet and windy Dublin, where summer seems to have decided to take a year out! I grabbed ‘une grande bouteille d’eau’ and hit the beach to catch up on some much needed sleep.

Mercantour Marvel

Where was I going? Well, let me take you back to a dark and dreary day in the office in January. I was just clearing my desk when a curious e-mail arrived from Amelia at ResponsibleTravel to say I had won a walking holiday in the Mercantour National Park. The park nestles on the French Alps, just an hour from Nice. Not only that, I was to have three days guided walking with Mel of Space Between, a travel company run by Mel Jones and Liz Lord. Disregarding the e-mail as a hoax, I ignored it. A couple of days later another e-mail arrived wondering if I was actually going to claim my free holiday – yes, it was true, yes it was free, and I humbly accepted and arranged my voyage for the last week in June.

June arrived and there was Liz e-mailing me to find out when I was arriving. The holiday couldn’t have come at a better time for me: usual stuff - work stress, and lack of sunlight. From the moment I was picked up by Liz that Saturday evening, which was bathed in a wonderful warm summer sunshine, until the following Saturday morning, I felt that I had arrived at a home from home. The ground-floor of Mel and Liz’s traditional style house has been converted into a self-catering gîte (Mel and Liz live upstairs and they also have a B&B attached on the upper floor) and this was to be my place for the week. The view from my own private terrace every morning was southward and the sun warmed my toes as I breakfasted gazing down the Vesubie valley.

I spent three days with Mel and Liz walking, but there are also clearly marked walking routes within easy access of the gîte. I spent two days strolling through the local pine forested valleys, exploring hidden streams and old homesteads that seem to have been absorbed and naturalised by the pines and sweet chestnuts. It was a good way to wind down and get into the pace of life in the French rural countryside.

On Monday, Mel led the way and we walked through La Madone de la Fenestre. This valley formed the major salt route that existed between the French coast and the Italian towns on the far side of the Alps. The Templar monastery at our starting point screamed of a rich heritage and endless stories of perilous journeys through the snow covered alpine passes with salt-laden donkeys. Enough of the past: the present day valley is spectacular. We steadily climbed up through the valley, encountering a rich array of wildlife - gentians, wonderful orchids, delicate saxifrages and an overwhelming array of pink azalea abounded, set against a rich, verdant landscape with larches creeping up to their limit on the steep alpine slopes. We passed through a picturesque hanging valley, where I had my first marmotte and chamois (antelope-like creatures) sightings, along with alpine chough, alpine accentor, wheatear and definitely the biggest frogs I’ve ever seen swimming in the ice cold glacial lakes. We ate lunch overlooking La Gordolasque valley, at a height of 2400m. That day finished with a gentle saunter back down through another valley, following the path of an idyllic cold water stream.

Crossing from France to Italy - lunch first!

Next day, Mel, Liz and I headed out for a more challenging walk. We walked for about 12 hours, moving from 1600m to 3000m, up through pine forest, up though alpine meadows and even further up (‘where are we going Mel?’ ‘Up, Up Up!’ – probably best not to ask!); onto the rocky mountain tops and ridges that mark the border with Italy. And so I ate half of my camembert sandwich in Italy and half in France. The views were spectacular, but the summit was only a taster for what lay around the corner in the Cougourde valley. We began the descent marvelling at the high views, and then into the valleys where wonderful orchids lined the grassy slopes alongside wild chives and gentians. The Cougourde Refuge was a vision in a lush green valley, embedded with jewel like flowers and sprinkled by crystal clear streams and waterfalls.

Next day I was exhausted, and chose a gentle walk between Belvedere and Berthemont des Bains to give my weary legs a chance to recover. I took my time, stopping now and then to perch on a rock between the shady pines and soak in the green valley vistas, or just to wonder at how naturally-slow time seemed to pass in this peaceful world.

On Thursday we headed south and starting from the pretty village of Utelle, climbed to the hilltop of La Madone d’Utelle. Here the hillsides are lined with evergreen oak, wild strawberries, lavender, and an array of wonderful Mediterranean flowers – very different from the Alpine species that we had encountered just an hour north of us in the Boreon. The church on the summit has a wonderful atmosphere and we bought honey from the local nuns (straight from the bee’s bum!) and a beer in the next town of Lantosque.

I spent my last day in the Boreon – morning time at the wolf sanctuary and afternoon climbing a small mountain (big by Irish standards at 2500m!). The Alpha wolf sanctuary is an initiative to mend the rift between local farmers and those concerned with conservation and re-introduction of the native wolf, largely through education and a captive wolf breeding programme. As I looked into the eyes of the wolves, I could feel a certain primeval excitement at being so close to such wonderful and beautiful creatures. After a rustic lunch of local cheese and bread by the river, I headed up again and my last afternoon in the Alps was rewarded with more spectacular views and more heady alpine scented meadows. I was reluctant to make the descent as I knew it would be my last view of this wonderland.

Sleeping wolf - counting sheep perhaps?

Liz and Mel cooked that night and we shared our meal with a German couple, who had spent the previous 8 days walking across the Alps. Did I forget to mention that Liz is an amazing cook? Well, we feasted on wonderful beef stew with subtle wine and orange flavours, local salads, courgette and spuds, raspberries and redcurrants, cheese and more cheese, topped off with bottles of red wine and a taste of the local liqueur, Genepy. Despite language and cultural diversity, we spent a wonderful evening laughing and sharing our Mercantour experiences.

Next morning I bid a fond farewell to Mel and Liz, the cats and my new refuge on the edge of the Mercantour Park. The buzz of Nice was a shock to the system: a direct contrast to the music of the alpine countryside – the bee-loud glades and heavy cow-bells with heady lavender scents by day, owls and cricket chirping at night.

Highlights: wine and philosophy on the terrace (‘c’est la providence!’); the owls hooting from the forest; the warm scent of pines; the alpine meadow psychedelic floral displays; the alpine air; the endless skies; the views from the top; the winter snow clinging on at edge of slowly warming corrie lakes; the circling alpine choughs; the magic of the Cougourde valley; the iconic blue of the gentians; and the warm hospitality and friendship of Mel and Liz; definitely a Space Between experience, brushed with alpine magic.

June 2007

Breath-taking beauty - worth 10 hours walking!!