#304: From Annecy
Finding stillness and coming home.
I’m in France with Sarah and Xander.
We’re away for a month.
I said I wouldn’t work. Or write. Or do anything that isn’t being completely present and connected with my family and this place.
But the feeling I have here, I have to share.
I want to bottle this up and to share a piece of it.
I feel total and utter peace and tranquility. I’m contented and fulfilled.
I’m watching my 7 month son unfold before my eyes with the backdrop of mountains and lake.
He’s watching birds fly across the water. He’s shouting at the waves gently lapping to the shore.
And I’m totally here for it. Totally calm, present and attentive. In a way that I find hard to ever attain.
I’m not on holiday. I’m not travelling. This container is a break into a new world and this place is my haven.
I want to share this feeling because it’s so opposed to the ones I left England with.
As we packed the car to leave I was full of stress, fear and anxiety. I was working hard up to this point, earning my keep and Xander was sleeping badly.
My mind was full of rain and clouds. I wasn’t there. I was elsewhere. I was in my head. I kept leaving the fridge door open.
A 5 minute body scan meditation wouldn’t do. A walk around the block in the fresh air did nothing. My mind was full.
After a 3 day road-trip to the Alps, I feel totally different. Calm, clear, present.
It’s a reminder that how I feel now is actually how I want to feel. It’s how I’m meant to feel. It’s how we’re actually wired to feel.
It’s possible. It’s actually possible to feel like this for a sustained period of time.
I know I’m in the holiday romance and the good fortune of a month off. Still, I’m reminded that this state exists.
This blue sky. This silvery lake water. These mountains. They exist in me.
This place is heaven on earth.
It’s mystical and magical. Full of fairytale towns that surround the Lake - natures ultimate playground.
There’s something about a dip in a lake compared to the sea. The water is thicker, more viscous and not salty. The feeling of being cleansed is heightened. You are surrounded, not by an open horizon, but by mountains rising up high. In a bowl. As if it was made just for you.
I feel awed here. The lake, the mountains and the trees have carved their way into my bones.
This is all in the postcard of caring for a 7 month old every day. 3 meals a day. Weaning. Food on the floor. Naps. Bottle. Sterilising. Getting him down. Packing the car. Unpacking the car. Nappy change. Wet wipes. Need more nappies. Forgot the sun umbrella.
The rhetoric about parenting I was feeding off at home is all based on scarcity and lack. Being a parent is SO hard. No it’s not. Our lives are hard or tiresome, or unfulfilling. Therefore parenting feels very hard. Being a parent is actually the easiest thing in the world. Babies are perfect. We just mostly live in an environment or state that clouds this true reality. I know I can’t live on holiday permanently, but I’m reminded that it is possible to feel more like this. To be a parent more like this.
With this space I’ve afforded myself, I feel an ease. An inner nature. A knowing. I don’t need an instagram reel to tell me how to be a parent or put my child to sleep. This is in me. This is tiring, but it’s not hard. It’s my nature.
I said to myself that when I return from this trip I’ll be myself every day.
I don’t even know what that means. Or how that manifests, or why I’m sharing that here now, but that’s my intention.
I’m done playing other people’s games and constantly changing uniforms. No more roles or characters. This trip is a circuit breaker for me. On return. I’m James. Me.
I can feel this change occurring. I’m returning to the mountains and the lakes inside of me. They run deep and they soar high.
This tale is a reminder to me and to anyone reading that whatever the weather your mind is in.
You can always find the stillness you seek.
James
P.s I’ll respond in July, but may write again here before then