Trust and let go.

In Feb 2008 I went on a vision quest. It was a facilitated event and took place on a farm close to Monteque in the Western Cape. There were 7 of us, all there with the intention to spend time alone in the wild with the minimum of gear: no tent, no food, lots of water (and Rehidrat). The days were hot as hell and the nights freezing. Most of the water on the farm had dried up and there was little shade - the trees of that region are small and don't give much shade. The word "lush" definitely doesn't come to mind. It was one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life, I don't think there is a quicker way to find out what lies at the core of your being. Now when I say "quick" don't get confused here. The 4 days spent in the wild were insanely long. Time can't possibly pass slower when you have nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing to read. Just being with yourself, marooned, alone. (It definitely helps knowing that there are 6 other people going through the same pain you are going through in the area, even though you can't see them or hear them, you know they are there.) It was during that experience that I realised how fearful I had become. In the bush I was scared out of my mind: a leopard is going to eat me; a crocodile, a lion. Don't ask me where they were supposed to have come from. I realised that when I'm in town I feel the same way. I'm afraid someone will break into my house, or that I will be hijacked again. I live in a constant state of super-alertness that takes an enormous amount of energy to uphold and has ensured that my life has progressively gotten smaller and smaller over the last couple of years. In the wilderness I am scared, at home I am scared. All the time this fear I carry in me. This trip feels like an extension of that vision quest. I'm not marooned in the wilderness (thank god) but on another continent, and even though I'm not alone and not isolated, no one here knows me and I am an outsider. The same fear that I felt so deeply on that quest is in me, but this process is gentler and kinder. I have choice. I can go into it or leave if I want to, and because I know that I can choose I choose to stay for now and to play with the fear, to stretch it a bit and see what happens. I feel it in my body most of the day. It pulls me up by my neck and carries me around stiffly, a smile cut into my face. I watch the people around me, trying to assess situations and sum up places. It's no use. I have to trust and let go. I have to trust and let go.