Jan 2006
Reflections above the clouds 1
16/January/2006 12:51 .Planting
ideas.Permalink
Caring for Olive trees makes you think a lot about time. These trees have withstood numerous forest fires and yet they continue to live and produce fruit. As you work with the trees you come to recognise the seasonal spurts and sleeps, the cycles of production and rest and their enormous capacity to endure life´s changing climate.
Yet despite being surrounded by such fine examples of endurance, I found myself eager once again for change.
What once was a joyful trial, an eager experiment, a diversion for its own sake, has now the apparent weight of time thrown in.
Friends may argue that after 40 yrs of dodging and ducking, a little bit of permeance might not be such a bad thing. And its true that an endless life of swinging to and fro does eventually lead to travel sickness and the craving for a root somewhere, someplace, sometime.
Roots mean growth with a purpose. Roots mean not having to reproduce life every few years under the promise of change. Roots mean seeing beyond the corner. They also mean tripping up a lot of the time.
Play: Justified and Ancient.
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Settled?
01/January/2006 12:49 .Once
upon a time.....Permalink
Get Me Away From Here I´m Dying, sung Belle and Sebastion whilst I stood at the corner of our terrace facing the Mediterranean and the shores of Africa beyond. I was convinced, yet again that my ipod was doing this on purpose. It had a habit of randomly selecting songs from my collection to the same tune my mind randomly selected thoughts. Centuries ago in other lands, yarrow stalks were once cast upon the ground and their pattern interpreted so as to be able to choose the best path that lay ahead.
Today such random activity can, it appears, be activated digitally.
Coastal living and coastal life in Spain. We fell for it like so many others: the Mediterranean dream. But we hadn´t just swallowed the El Dorado soaps, the snack-bites of Spanish life served daily in the gloom of north Europe. We escaped the Isles just before the TV tsunami hit the sun starved masses. And when it did hit, we had already been living inland for several years, supping manchadas - milky coffees - the breadth of Spain: Cataluna, Castlla la Mancha, Castilla y Leon and finally Andalusia. At last we settled on the Granada coast where we have been for the last 8 years. But settled was the last thing that the coast had in mind.It was about to experience a property fever and a wave of sun seekers like never before.
But devoid of pap TV we remained in blissful ignorance, for a short while at least, working the open markets and drifting between the beach and the mountians.
At first we had a small rented attic flat above the sea, between the castle and the rocky outcrop that symbolizes this tropical coastal resort. Almost surrounded by sea, it had a two tiered terrace and the chance to sleep to the sound of waves. A cheap one-roomed dwelling that served us as temporary home and a base for coastal life.
Our second abode was above the clouds. Our home in the mountains - an abandoned olive grove with a newly built house extension and almost total isolation from the world. Our own spring, solar power, wood for fuel and even of some home grown vegetables - and of course an olive or two.
What more could anyone want? If happiness was found in the garden of eden then we had indeed found it here. Only, something seemed out of place. We had friends, we had work but we still felt something fundamental was missing. Despite the information highway arriving at our door the most simplest questions were left unanswered. What makes a place become your home? Where does contentment lie? I googled it but to no avail. I tried meditating, meandering and messaging but was left unsatisfied. Then one sharp and clear morning I looked further down the valley and if I wasn't mistaken, the grass looked definitely greener down that way.
Armed with ipod and Tao Te Ching I set off.
Play: Talking heads - the road to nowhere
Watch: South of Granada.
Read: As I walked out one midsummer morning - Laurie Lee