The Path

 The Universe has a plan for the two of us. I know. And we'll find out what it is. I feel it, she says as I take a bite of my cream cheese bread looking down at the village. The village that had me for three months now. Three months of a rollercoaster ride.

I reply to her that I’m walking up the cross just as in Mestia. How we used to. The same path in a parallel setting, in the same Universe. Memories come back. That path that we've walked, that I've walked and still it seems I get lost on in.

I lost my path. Again. How is it even possible when I have done the hike two times before and it’s well marked? I look around, I look down. Can I not read signs? After some minutes I look at the house, it’s not the same. I pull out a picture from three months back. How is it possible? That's not the path.

The Universe asking for my close attention now, becoming aware.

I see another hiker down just on the way. The right way. I cannot understand how I’ve forgotten the way and overlooked the signs.

I take a breath. I have overlooked the signs and lost my path. Wow.

I return. As I walk I realize that I’ve missed about a third of the trek. Forgotten about it. Erased from my mind as I listen to her message. In her ever enthusiastic tone laughing letting me know that she’s just doing the exact same way up to the cross and that we may arrive at a similar time. Energy. She says. Ever returning at the right time. Magic.

What are the odds? What are all the factors that had to play together, entangle to lead us here today reconnected in the same old place but new. We’ve become different people since we last walked the cross together, completely different, it must have been almost five years. 

And here today we reconnect first through my dream and then only some hours later in reality. I feel it when I wake up and finally decide to answer her message. It's today. The right time.

I take a break and finally look at the house. The house at the right view. Almost another hour. The weather is sturdy, windy, unsteady, unstable. It has been exactly that coming out of nowhere since the night they threw me out. The Universe threw me out. Finally. When the sky started closing up with thick dark clouds and finally the thunderstorm arrived. 

In that moment the magic returns. I’m released. Released from a place where people didn’t care about my wellbeing, about my heart, about me.

I start writing. I need to write again while the cowards are hiding behind their closed doors pretending to sleep.

Separating myself from their energy my magic returns. A magic they have never seen or experienced. A magic that had been oppressed for the last months, drowned in anxiety and irritation. In shame and guilt, accusations and selfish agenda.

While I’m climbing the rocks I’m typing these words as I used to do in the place she’s in now hiking away with me. A path she’s climbed so many more times than me. Back on trek reunited.

The top gets smaller the more that I climb. The wind is picking up harshly blowing around my ears, in my face. I have to take out my scarf to cover my head. Clouds are moving fast. Dark, fast. Sturdy unstable, reflecting where I am right now at this moment. Nature with me. Always whenever needed. The weather fairy. A magic that's been mirrored to me through others on y path over the years. A magic that could not be understood here.

In the storm at the top I only stay for a few minutes as my anxiety is still deep and intense from my past in the mountains. I speak to the Universe with a strange happiness and gratitude for that has happened and for this day today bringing back the magic in so many different dimensions. 

What need to be the odds of bringing us together today in the same place to reconnect?

As I walk down I say goodbye. Goodbye to this place, goodbye to the cows who are grazing peacefully until I see the message on my phone. It's still hard for me to stay at peace when a single word already throws me back into anxiety.

She asks me to speak at a specific time. Again to their convencience for what they need of me to form their complete picture. My hope and notion somehow still is that she actually wants some clarity on things that he maybe wasn't telling her. She doesn't.

Once again I'm mistaken. This message was intentional to confirm the bias, the seed they've already sowed for me. It wasn't her wanting to speak to me. It was him speaking to me through her. All consumed about their truth she she asked to frame me into the picture where they'd already put me long before. I don't wanna hear anything anymore. I'm full. I don't wanna talk. It's always the same pattern. I don't know what was infiltrated into her but it worked. When I manage to shake the intrusion and hostility off me, I can just laugh and try to brush off this heavy feeling of self righetousness. About them doing the right thing for protecting themselves for the damage they've been doing.

It feels like a made up Universe where they can make sure to find more dirt against me to make themselves feel better about everything that's been done from the start. 

I dive into my yoga despite whoever and whatever is surrounding me, trying to save just a tiny little piece of my magic. Trying to shield myself only for some more hours from all the things I couldn't think of they would make up to make the puzzle suitable for themselves. 

A girl is entering my yoga space. First openly saying hi, smiling, reading the energy. She hugs me asking if I remember her. Then returning for learning something from me, for getting advice for helping her with things she's seeing me doing on the mat. That's so inspiring she says. Thanking me. Words I haven't heard in a long time. An approach from humans towards me, seeing parts of who I am, I seemed to have been missing for many weeks now. Lost. Forgotten about in the darkness and turmoil. People coming to see me. Not to fulfill their own one dimensional view of the world, of things, of situations, using me as their scapegoat to make things easier for themselves. But coming to me for me.

Since the Universe punched me in the face to finally get me out as I didn't seem to be able to find that separation myself, all my beloved are showing immediately with such consideration and care that each of their reaches is moving the tears out of my body. Every time my phone rings, someone offering to speak, to share what I'm going through trying to help me in this rough time. I forgot.

Sometimes I only notice how difficult things have been, how I wasn't cared for, surround by self absorbed spirits with their one path point of view of me only concerned about how they could get their personal story straight. My heart hasn't received that much understanding and true care in a very long time.

Even my dad within a second calls when he notices the situation although we never really speak that much on the phone with a lot of empathy and care. With love, just like my mom reminding me that I keep returning to their thoughts. Wondering how I will handle things so quickly. Just when I need them. Everyone asking me for updates about the situation despite me having already shared much of my heartache.

I receive love again. Human love and care. That I apparently have been taught to forget about here in the harshness and shame and blame for me over the time being here.

It is still sometimes a surprise to me, a miracle, a reminder when I see how quickly I forget what kindness means when I'm surrounded by the wrong people. What understanding means. What care means. What it means to truly be interested in another human being and their feelings. About me. How it becomes normality to just be alone and work through the notions, the pain and injuries, having people around mirroring to you every day to you that you're not how you should be and that it is you to blame if you feel otherwise.

When I can finally break free, let go from this prison here that I wanted to be my home and Safe space so much, overlooking all the signs that were there from the beginning; the signs that showed me that maybe I wasn't wanted here or appreciated.

Wake me up when September ends. Or when it starts. September in the mountains. There may be other reasons to pull me out of here before it's too late as you never know when it could be your death sentence. 

The magic will return. It already has. And I'll be on my way again. On my path. Hopefully one where I understand to read the signs more closely. More precisely. A path where people want well for me. Are for me.