One Woman Walks Wales - 3700 miles
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Unpacking

9/15/2015

1 Comment

 
A large storage box lies on the floor next to me, on top of it is a stolen shopping basket, and piled haphazardly against it are various cardboard boxes and packages.
I brought them down out of a stiflingly hot attic, sneezing with the disturbed dust, heaving heavy loads down the stairs and back to the barn that is currently my centre of operations.
I can't open them, I am ignoring them.  I tried yesterday, opening a lid to begin the task of sorting, dividing, discarding what is no longer useful.  These boxes are my supply dump, the storage of all the things I needed and used over the course of my walk, maps, books, clothes, packages I have posted home from all over Wales; the physical memories of my walk.  I opened the lid and pulled out a fleecy waistcoast I wore to keep me warm during the cold seasons, a thin sleeping mat I used for extra insulation from frozen ground, a packet of red lentils, an envelope of maps.  I closed the lid; there are too many feelings and memories in there.  I'm not ready to relive the intensity of what I experienced.
Already the walk feels like something I once did.  Friends I haven't seen yet shout their congratulations, excited for my achievement, yet I just shrug.  They're talking about something very far away in the past.
I'm in shock I suppose.  It's taken a great deal of perseverance to get me and my body to walk such a long distance.  Now I've finished I simply can't maintain that degree of unwavering resolution.  I can see, looking back, that my determination in the end was almost a mania.  It had to be, in order to achieve such an incredible thing.  Now I've finished I have needed to drop my compulsion to achieve and, instead, to crawl into a dark place, curl up and rest.  I am shying away from picking up that energy once again and yet, in order to produce a book, to self-publish the story of my journey, I must command myself to action - no-one else will do this for me, just as no-one else could order me to complete or quit my walking challenge.
I know what I am going to do next, I am going to make a crowdfunding attempt to publish a book about my walk; yet I am having trouble taking those first steps to make it happen.  I have been doing other things.  I have opened up other storage bins, the objects I packed carefully away when I left Machynlleth and I have discovered that I am a different person now.  I packed as a person who wanted a home, who was attached to objects that held her history, who kept things in preparation of a dream future home.  I was scared of losing the roots I'd built so carefully during my cancer aftermath, the roots I'd found myself so shockingly in need of on being a travelling person faced with a cancer diagnosis.  I was scared of setting off again, unsure if this was what I wanted, so I packed against it, hoarded away my beautiful china, my crafted decorations, well loved clothing, books read many times, books never opened.  I packed away the security of a life once lived and the promise of a life to come.
Yet here I am now, I've come back again and found I don't need this security any more.  I'm not looking for a home, I'm looking to leave again as soon as possible.  I want to walk across Europe.  The walk I've completed, these 3700 miles, has changed me, it's made me more self reliant and it's made me more mindful.  I feel happier to exist with the needs of my immediate present, not harvest and store for the future.  I have what I need now - a small amount of money for food and a place to stay.  I don't need to keep objects in a box in a barn to make myself feel better about my future.  When I do find a home, whenever in my future that will be, I'll find more beautiful things to fill it.
It seems I'm writing this blog about two things at once; simultaneously opening some boxes and ignoring others.  I'm facing the larger, organisational themes of life and my current place in it but unable to think about an intense recent period.
Perhaps my mind requires recuperation in the same way as my muscles do.  I walked two miles the other day and my calf muscle has been cramped ever since.  Perhaps the principles I'm applying to my tired, over used body; stretching, massage and gentle exercise, should also be applied to a tired brain.
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1 Comment
Vic pizza link
9/26/2015 02:51:15 pm

Hi hon, just catching up on your last few epic walk days your comments, blog and the aftermath. It's making me smile as it is so exactly the same as what we experience each autumn. Different circumstances but that familiar feeling when something that means everything, that you concentrate your whole being into....it takes over and becomes your life....you can't imagine any other state of being. It's a hard life, gladly accepted, embraced and every day is a new challenge. You become a little addicted to the 'what will today bring, what newness will I experience, who will I meet, what unseen beautiful view awaits over that ridge. How hard can I and will I choose to push my body and psyche. To me it is part adrenalin junkie, tho not the kind of self absorbed bored gap year over a cliff bungee jump skydive but a far more earthy connectivity born from curiosity with people and the world around us. And wanting to do something giving, be it raising loads cash and awareness for your charity or just wanting to get some decent grub down people and get off on their reaction. And then it suddenly stops. Big full stop. Of course we know it's going to happen. Every year we at our lil Pizza world we get increasingly more tired come August, we count with glee on our fingers, only another four festivals, only 3, only 2, (sh!!!) start planning hols, making plans for the winter. But still it creeps up, suddenly it's our last festival. A lovely one, Bromyard (mega cold Herefordshire, you remember) small, brimming full with good friends and love. In our early years we were so tired by the Final Festival we couldn't wait to be done, get gone, be at home. But a few days home we would feel incredibly restless, bored, quite down. Very deflated post party balloon. But, for us, this now happens every year and we are getting better at finding ways to cope. The world goes from technicolor to black and white. But there is beauty in monochrome, it's just different that's all. And aren't we the lucky ones? We have been to the other side, have felt that amazing rush of inspiration, adrenalin. So many unexpected meetings, conversations, new friends made, new things learned. We are now back home, in our rubbish little village where neighbours blank us (scared of what we do, unwilling to find out) and I watch them all unwillingly leaving their houses early morning to go to jobs they hate, down trodden, trapped. Even the ones who we know, and our friends, when you suggest that they could have a life like ours they look scared. They can't live like we do, a bit free, taking control, being responsible for our own destiny. We are the lucky ones, we crossed that rubicon and I feel sorry for those who never will. We do our utmost to encourage any tiny bit of entrepreneurial spririt in anyone who works with us. It's all bout freedom I guess.
So our therapy these last two weeks has been the very unrock n roll cleaning cleaning, all our bits of equipment, packing carefully away and throwing the crap broken stuff...and (so grown up this) replacing broken stuff now, whilst we have the money and memory.
And yes I keep finding little reminders of the summer, frayed wrist bands (Glasto, unworn, don't tell, can't be doing with cooking and bracelets, unhygienic :-) scribbled bits of paper addresses bands to watch out for, festival layouts ....on a paper plate (was useful actually. Most gets a place on our fire at night, a few I save. But have now got into taking photos of 'stuff' before I throw/burn. It's a way of preserving a memory whilst turning said object into far more useful carbon.
So embrace the new, enjoy and start planning your next adventure. I am already on next years festivals, busy looking, cooking, hunting ingredients. But also looking around me, loving the autumn...and so sad..enjoying the simple pleasures of my washing machine, going to our local market of a Saturday, catching up with people on a friday pub night, lest we forget Sunday night PUB QUIZ whoooo! It's all good, all about readjustment and let's face it you need the mundane to make sense of the adventure. And vice verse probably? Anyway bored off cleaning home life now SO, off on big adventure to South Italy, Puglia next week, need some more adrenalin! Got cheap flight 80 quid return for two, hired a car and signed up with lots of Airbnb addresses. 3 weeks there, lots of bread and baking to find out about, new people to stay with, learn some Italian or learn some Italians bout Pizza....who knows ....see what happens. Still addicted :-)
Postscript And thank you, when I was off the scale so tired so stressed at Glasto you and all our team where there for me, for us. Thank you, you will never live thru my Glasto experience, it's my own personal demon, so hard on us, so difficult for us, so much pressure. You helped big time, esp late at night, we made that crowd laugh, we fed them some great pizza...and hell we raised some charity money too. So, have a good rest, plan the next adv

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