A Special Place

At first, it is the overriding heat that demands my attention. I think again, why did I come here in August? About an hours’ journey from Rome in the hills of Sabina, the temperature can be oppressive and energy sapping. I feel as though I am wading through invisible mud. My feet and legs feel heavy and I walk slowly to accommodate both the heat and the sheer wonder of this place.

My surroundings claim my attention. The hills undulate into the distance and verdant trees scatter and thicken. The shades of Green become more than just a colour but a living, breathing landscape that demands my attention.

The road my feet connect with is littered with potholes; its state of decay matched only by its gradient. Either side, overgrown bushes bow with orange and indigo berries. My taste buds are treated to the sharp tang of blackcurrants and my clothes are caught on thorns as I pick fruit along the way. I am going downhill now. The way back is steep, but I can’t allow myself to think about that now.

My senses are engaged, caught and held; wildflowers and clambering vines; brambles and nettles and sounds that both soothe and invigorate. Birds, insects and bees. Heat rises from the tarmac and I breathe in the scents of grass, thickets and wildflowers. I walk slowly, not only because of the heat but because this walk is as absorbing to me as the destination is important. Solitude is a state of mind and I am not alone. The call of birds, the distant sound from busy farming machinery are all carried blissfully in the thick stillness of heat.

The path I take veers left and it arrives, as always with sharp surprise. This Summer it is even more over-grown. Branches of thorns catch at my clothes and sometimes scratch my skin. Once, my hat was lifted from my head by a jealous bramble and I learned to move out of the way of this path’s inhabitants, not walk through them.

Now, there is the crunch of dried leaves and the sound of darting lizards. Sometimes I catch sight of a small lightning-fast tail as it whizzes through the layered path. I breathe in and lift one foot, I breathe out and place it carefully on the earth. Thich Naht Hahn’s advice to walk as though we kiss the earth comes to me and the pleasure at walking on this earth is felt deeply within. I play with ‘walking’. Attention is said to be caught by our imagination and in this place my imagination is not as powerful as reality. The sound of running water alleviates the heat for a moment. I can hear drains gurgle with the underground streams, crickets echo, insects call, and birds sing. It only takes a moment to feel connection to a world that is far greater than I believe possible.

I continue on this path, following it but (almost) not wanting my journey to end. There is wonder and pleasure in allowing my senses to experience what is happening Now: The ground beneath, the sounds that arrive, the smells that can be tasted and the understanding this moment is as transitory as it is beautiful.

I veer left again and the small house appears – the conclusion to my walk but the beginning of another journey. I feel excitement deep inside my body as well as that deep, familiar sense of rest that occurs when we feel we have come ‘home’. This year has brought many changes to our lives. My small world was shaken when my dad passed away in February. My larger world was turned upside down with the onslaught of COVID_19 and all subsequent events. I, like all of us, have coped, adapted and managed to carry on thinking I am alright, but really knowing I am not.

I have come to Italy to practice and be taught Yoga. Each time is different and each time my felt experience deepens to the extent that it does not matter if it can be repeated, explained or revisited. To feel it once is enough.

Diane Long said ‘we cry because we don’t know who we are. We cry because we validate ourselves by ‘doing’ something and in this we lose the true depth of knowledge that we are already whole, already You’.

I came here, not to gain anything but to lose the baggage that I carry. I came here to let go of habits and to find that way of practicing that cultivates freedom, not just in movement but in thought. I came here to remember ‘me’.

It is wrong to call this place special. It is just a house with a yoga teacher and other students. But, sometimes, we are lucky enough to find a place that will nourish us and a teacher who will direct us to a path that allows us to begin again. There comes a time when there is a realisation that searching, looking and trying to change, depletes us. A special place will nourish and allow us to be who we are.

The most wonderful insight of all is the realisation this special place resides within us. We may search for it outside us, beyond us and even oversees, but we find it when we stop looking and learn to listen. This is when we begin again.

Donna Negus

13/8/20