Off the map

As we piled into the car early in the morning, we all had a sense of anticipation in our stomachs, or was that the fact that we had left without our breakfast?

The main road out of Honfleur, flanked by ancient planes, sycamores, and beech trees towering over the tarmac, was clear. The tree roots, deep and wide, provided a gateway as we trundled out of town heading towards the coast.

We were on an adventure, led at the steering wheel by a driver who had skills similar to Toad in The Wind in the Willows. Pootling and trundling were really not the verbs of choice for Colin. He preferred to veer, race, and swerve in no fixed order on our car journey that day. Racing towards the beach would have been a more judicious verb or maybe that should be a reckless verb.

We had been informed by the sensible French authorities, who did not want the masses from Paris descending on their coastal towns, that there would be roadblocks and gendarmes on duty to avoid small beaches being overrun with people. Personally, we thought it was because the beach dwellers who had their summer houses really did not want their view obscured by the out-of-towners or tourists. As we were looking up at the sky and not out to the horizon, I remember feeling quite indignant that these restrictions were planned.

The roads remained clear as we started to navigate on our paper map towards the coast where my mother-in-law’s cousin lived. Denise had invited us to come to her house and walk down to the small beach at the end of her road to have a perfect view.

This eclipse in 1999 was the first in the region for 9 years and the most viewed total eclipse ever. If you lived in the UK, it was the first total eclipse since 1925. So it was a big one – totality does not happen that frequently.

It was the first total eclipse in my lifetime and the first eclipse that I had been so thoroughly taken with. This one had truly captured my imagination. It felt like a portent of things to come. I can truly imagine what the people of the past might have thought when they saw the sun disappearing from view. It would have caused such consternation. Their sun god being eaten by the moon; what would become of them? For me, the eclipse was the sign of good things to come. This was the summer where in France we had been tasting various brands of Saumur wine to serve at our forthcoming wedding in October. This was the time of sunshine and good food, surrounded by loving people who I am grateful to have had in my life for over 27 years. This time was two months prior to the best wedding in my life.

The ‘A’ roads, or what is known in France as ‘N’ roads or Routes Nationales, were our driver’s preferred choice. He didn’t want to go on the autoroutes in fear of being stopped and turned back by the gendarmes. Our destination was Les Grandes Dalles, a distance which would take at least two hours, hence the early pre-6 a.m. start. I recall it took much longer than that as we crisscrossed the area to avoid being caught out. These were the days before we had Google Maps that we all rely on so much to get us from A to Z. Then, we literally had the A–Z to get us anywhere in the UK and had similar paper maps abroad.

I sometimes yearn for times before satnavs, Google Maps, and the like. A time when the journey was a little longer as we had to stop every now and again to read the map. As a female driver who often drove long distances on her own, I don’t know quite how I did it. No phone, a paper map, yet I did always get to where I wanted and never seemed to get lost.

That innate body knowledge of being able to navigate with the simplest of tools is an ability that is lost to so many. Many who only see themselves as a blue dot on the map. Those who only can see where they are going but have no idea of where they have come from. Being able to know where you come from is very important to me.The stories from my past make me who I am today.

But I digress, back to the trip. We had to get to the coast no later than 10 a.m., as by then we anticipated crowds. Crowds waiting to claim a tiny patch on the beach, set up their chairs, and look up towards the sky.

We got to Denise’s place well before 10 a.m., had time for coffee and croissants, and a saunter down to the beach. There was no beach when we arrived; the tide was in, so we claimed a spot on the beach wall, waiting for the hordes. No hordes came, just a few villagers and their visitors, all chatting convivially before we stopped and paused.

The sky darkened first, taking on a lilac hue reminiscent of an early dawn or sunset. The air settled and everything seemed incredibly still. It almost felt as if the waves had ceased their constant movement, in awe at what was going on above our heads.

Using the special glasses in order not to hurt our eyes, we watched as the moon nibbled slowly at the sun, taking bit by bit until it was all gone.

Totality brought a visceral response in me, a mixture of strong emotions. Fear that my beloved sun would not return and the joy of being able to witness this view with people I loved dearly. I returned to the days of olden times when a deeper part of me remembered that same view, maybe on the 21st June CE 19, when the sun stopped for nearly 4 minutes.

I had a slight anxious feeling and the question of, “What if the sun doesn’t come back?” at the back of my mind, and breathed a sigh of relief and sadness as the light shifted and changed, the sunny yellow glow of midday beckoned, and the waves echoed in my head.

That day was the day of the eclipse, but it was also Colin my late father-in-law. Colin who loved adventure, loved to journey, and never ever made a plan.

Watching the eclipse with my family last night, I had many similar emotions. Happiness to be surrounded by families all with their pinhole cameras, colanders, and sieves waiting to see the change. That same sense of anticipation in the air as we noted the changes in our shadows as they lengthened. The dimming of the light and the birds flying off in flocks to roost in the trees. I sensed the same anxious feeling as the sun darkened, and then a relief as the light began to return.

We did not have the little eclipse glasses, but just at the end, another family gifted their pair as they headed off home. Another half an hour was spent in excitement as they revealed so much more than our pinhole cameras could see. Another half an hour as we shared the glasses with young and old around us, all so impressed with the celestial event above their heads.

Eclipse times remind me of so much. Every day is an adventure, a bit like my favourite Japanese saying: Ichi-go ichi-e – one time, one meeting.

And where is your adventure, where is your journey taking you? We, like the celestial bodies in the sky, have our own orbit. What joys can you spot on the way? What road might you take and dust off from the A–Z of your past?

Go well, go safely and, from time to time, don’t stick to the map

.

Every pilgrim needs a companion

Day 13

All good pilgrimages have companions, even those who travel alone.

On the way when walking you will meet other travellers. You are joined by birds on the wing, the flitting butterflies, moths, bees and other flying insects. Along the way you will meet trees and the flowers that adorn the path. And there is every living thing underfoot. To the quiet lizards sunning themselves on warm rocks to the moles, voles and earthworms below.

On this pilgrimage of sorts, I have had many good companions along the way.

Some have sent a message via social media to check in with me.  With questions of How are you? And How is your back? Longer conversations on the phone, supporting and cautioning impatience. Sending good wishes for a speedy recovery.

Some due to their geographical proximity, have visited, traversing the path, bearing gifts of flowers, plants, seedlings and one bringing a bonsai forest so that I can imagine myself under the redwoods once again in Santa Cruz.  Each spending time chatting, checking in regularly, and noticing the tiredness that can overwhelm me before making their way off, a bit richer from our meandering conversations about books, writing, creating and more.

The flowers in my garden chat in various tones as I venture forth each day.  Look at me, see me shine. And the trees on my walk remind me to stand straight, no bending, as I pick up the pace day by day.

And some of my companions have been consistently by my side from start to finish. Tiggy, my golden shadow, rests her head on my lap as I sit. My lovely boys whose cooking skills have improved tenfold in a fortnight. To my darling Carl, my constant companion.

Carl

You care so much

Your calm and cool head

Let me sit for a second longer

With pain and new twinges

Carl

You celebrate so much

Your cheery outlook

Take me into the future

On new paths, new places

Carl

You contribute so much

Your choice to support

Gives me space to

Contemplate, as I walk with you, always


Pilgrimages take many forms

The last line on a Facebook post I made recently where I announced to my network that I was soon to be undergoing back surgery.

Something that I have put off and shied away from for many years.

I have decided to write down my journey to surgery as it may, just may help any of you out there who might be facing issues with your body that you are truly convincing yourself that you can manage.

How long has this been going on for?

That is the first question that the consultants ask. I answer with two years or more recently a few months but in reality it has been ‘going on for’, forty years.

Yes, forty years. I remember clearly when my back had its first challenge, at college when I was doing a gymnastic section in my B.Ed. degree. In the middle of some move or another it locked and I was locked away for the rest of the summer, lying on my back trying not to move. Those were the days, when that is what you did when you put your back out. The days before we were told to keep moving and not let the muscles stiffen.

The ongoing issues with my back were like a wave, rising and falling at different points in my life. If I had kept a journal consistently back then, I would see that the back issues came with periods of stress in my life, whether that stress came from work or my personal relationships or personal issues. My back and posture impacted my knees leading to two arthroscopies along the way in my forties and early fifties. That stiffness in me, I know now stems from childhood trauma, an uncovering I have found through therapy and an exploration of self. That trauma is done, I cannot go back in time and change what happened to me, I can only work on myself now and that comes through acceptance.

Tomorrow, I am going to have a discectomy. Everyone has a view on back surgery, probably because we were told time and time again how precious our spines were and how we should look after it. I still have the caution in the voice of my mother ringing in my ears if we dared to be too joyful and energetic in our play when jumping on our bunk beds or across the garage roofs in the garden. The rhymes that would play out in our head as we skipped across the cracks in the pavement. ‘Step on a crack you will break your mother’s back.’

Our backs hold us firm and keep us upright.

Why have I used the word pilgrimage?

This time last year, I set out on part of the Camino de Santiago with a trusted guide and a group of women I did not know. At that point my back was in good order. I was ready to take this path. I had wanted to do this for some years but when the opportunity had been afforded to me in 2019 my back had gone into another spasm.

The path gave me everything I wanted, a richness of time, space and peace. A time to properly be with myself and my body, surrounded by nature that was so enriching.

This last week, I was due to walk another section of the path with my husband, retracing the steps of his own father who walked the Camino Frances many years ago. Sadly, that has now been postponed and maybe this is a path that he may have to take on his own in future years, for now it is out of reach for me.

What does pilgrimage mean to me?

Pilgrimage means facing up to something, working towards acceptance, a time for contemplation, a time for a journey and that journey for me is further self acceptance.

I believe that we are all on a pilgrimage, the pilgrimage of life. That journey is a mixture of highs and lows, but this pilgrimage is one that will look inward into as well as out to the next stage of my life.

So wish me well on my journey. I’ll be posting from time to time what is showing up on my path as I write about my recovery and what I find on my path. .

‘Buon Camino’, I heard time and time again last year, I am resurrecting those wishes of good luck as I pack my bag and get ready. .