Wonderlands

Do you believe in manifestation? I just found these writings I poured into a word document about 3 months ago:

“I want… foaming rivers and fragrant forests. To daydream eyes half closed, a play of light and shadow on my face. Isabel Allende once wrote that if you observe an ordinary object or body very closely, it is transformed into something sacred. I notice it when I practise on flowers, trees, rivers and seas. The pink clouds passing by my balcony as the sky changes into its nightgown. The man I hold close to my heart, every inch of his skin sacred and loved.

I want to be enveloped in eerie silence, the only sound the rushing of the river.”

As I’m typing this post, I catch a glimpse of dragonflies dancing on tiny leaves, the soothing flow of the river, the vibrant green as the sun lowers after another day in paradise. I am in Portugal and I feel soothed by the sway of mother nature’s lap. I don’t remember the last time I experienced such peace and quiet. Such deep connection to my inner and outer world. As if it’s the first time this year I’m exhaling, after a six month long inhale.

It’s been a month of all different kinds and shapes of intense. Boiling temperatures in my hometown, body melting during every hour of sun, only leaving my home as night falls. Nowhere festival was a beautiful dusty ball of weird and fun goodness. Lots of fun. Yet, intense. I landed softly in the arms of my beloved where I could rest and ease into my coming trip to Portugal, where I’d be spending the rest of the summer. All of a sudden we were thrown into the right here right now when my dad’s health took a scary turn. He felt better soon and got to go home from the hospital, giving me a careful bit of peace of mind. I decided to go to Portugal a few days later, and here I am now. An entire month of all the motions and emotions in one paragraph.

So I am here, and if all goes well this is where I’ll stay for the rest of summer. Cooking in my little outdoor kitchen, showering under the stars, swimming in the river and counting dragonflies. Writing letters and reading books. About that: I have just finished reading Alice’s adventures in Wonderland. I had never actually read the story, just watched the Disney movie and that other creepy version too. I have often felt like Alice, and many chapters of my life are described with words I think I remember from a story I had never read and memories that melt before they could harden into solid recollections.

I started reading the book at Nowhere, which I thought was an excellent place and time for it. Until a certain point, then the festival took over and books were left gathering dust in the back of the tent. I read another page or two after the festival, while my love was sleeping a siesta and I leafed through the story before the hand of gravity got a hold of me. I think I brought the book to the hospital once, in case we had to wait. But I never even opened it. I guess because reality suddenly turned into a scary land where no wonder could ever live. By the river, in the shade of the trees and the buzzing of insects, Wonderland became real again. After reading the story, I feel like I love Alice and her crazy world even more. An ode to different Wonderlands. My wish to you under the full moon: may you find a Wonderland soon!