Sonia Killik's Blog, page 3

So We Can Change the World – Who Knew?

Let’s be honest, we’ll never know if Covid-19 was manufactured, merely a common flu, an airborne zombie creator, or a convenient excuse for politicians to change legislation and increase their power. I am sure you are as saturated with conspiracy theories, data confusion and frustration as I am. 

Meh. It’s not the first time in history the man on the street will remain blithely/blissfully(?) unaware. What I do like about this rather bizarre time though, is what it proves: we can change the world. 

Whether you entered lockdown willingly or not, every race, religion, gender and country have all participated (which is no mean feat considering how many genders we now count).

Humanity has shared a singular goal and the results are astounding. 

I am not going to argue the merits or short-sightedness of political and medical decisions, or the impact on business, education or economies. What I want to highlight is the profoundly powerful impact of what we can achieve when our values are aligned. 

It is very difficult to get 5 people—never mind 7.8 billion—to allocate the same importance to a singular value. While some worship wealth, others dedicate their creative power and energy to technology, fitness, science, family, art, selfies, fashion or fascism.

Covid-19 cleared the playing field and presented us with the one and only value that we can all agree trumps the rest… survival. And the results are staggering; in 3 short months we have literally changed the world. 

Imagine if we all valued our environment, gender equality, wildlife, children and human rights? Imagine walking through a world where you greeted a stranger with a smile rather than suspicion. Where you lovingly shared your skills and solutions with others because the idea of scarcity could only be found in a history book. 

Imagine feeling so deeply connected to this life, to this planet, to your own purpose for existence that loneliness, doubt and fear lost their meaning. Imagine what it would be like to know that your actions, your participation, your voice and your presence are an integral part of the human experience.  

In the past, human evolution focused on the expansion of individualism. Our laws, our inventions and our aspirations are all byproducts of that drive for freedom. Although we have evolved far beyond our original design, which is an achievement to be celebrated, we have created a lot of damage along the way.

We forgot our deep necessity for authentic connection, we dismissed the value of group success and instead sought individual victory. We tried to heal our resulting societal and emotional wounds with instant gratification and prejudice. Instead of raising the tribe, we stood on the suffering of others and our very planet to numb the pain.

(Whew, that was a bit of an emotional diatribe wasn’t it?)

But now…now…we are presented with the proof of what is possible when we work together. Not just with people who think like you do, who look like you, or who live in the same neighborhood, but the entire human tribe working towards one goal. 

What other values can we decide is important enough to continue this beautifully inclusive and empathetic collaboration?

What does our new life look like, for you and for me, and what will you do to create it? 

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The Two Most Powerful Warriors Are Patience and Time

Leo Tolstoy described time and patience as ‘the two most powerful warriors’, He wrote these words in War and Peace and while he was referring to how best to outmanoeuvre your enemy during war, I would like to offer a different interpretation.

I have had the opporunity to speak to many people during the lockdown, spending time on conversation that I didn’t have before. Mostly everyone reported enjoying their home time and all mentioned the same feeling – an almost childlike enjoyment of stillness.

While we cannot escape the new stress this global pandemic has handed to us, there is a beauty in the slowing down, in the gentle flow of how life can be experienced. I am still working, still exercising, still going to bed at a semi reasonable hour, however, that urgency of time has completely left me. It is a gift I plan to consciously carry forward to the rest of my life.

I have been conducting some market research within my contacts (thank you to everyone who particpated), the question I asked was “which of these two needs speaks to you most?”

To make a major life change without fear, orTo reconnect to your passion, purpose and joy

There was an overwhelming confirmation of the latter and many people took the time to explain their answer: they told me that 3 months ago they would have chosen the first option, but now they are being drawn to inner reflection and feeling the call to connect once again with their orginal self.

This too is a gift that the lockdown brings us, the opportunity to exist outside of any preconceived ideas you had about your life, your future, and who you are expected to be. We spend our LIVES conforming to our culture, jobs, and relationships. We fear taking that courageous step when the call is heard within, the step that requires you to leave the familiar and open to the unknown.

That time is now, the time to invite all your immense power and wisdom into your every day life, the time to accept that you are more than the labels you have lived behind, more than the fear that has locked you into a small life. That you have the right—no—the necessity, to embody your unbreakable self.

Be unbreakable; unbreakable in your resolve, your love, your truth and your spirit.

Trust the wisdom of your inner voice, be patient with your unfolding, and give yourself more love, not less. Because however you have spent your time up until this very moment, you are deserving of more love, not less.

With love and appreciation from this human to you

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Is The Coronavirus the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread?

As the world pulls down the roller-doors on social engagement and commerce, the media predictably explodes with conspiracy theories, racism, fear-mongering, and profiteering. 

I am personally excited to see the growth potential that this time brings us. For the first time since WWII, we have the opportunity to suffer. 

Yes. I said opportunity. 

In our efforts to sanitise our experiences, our sensibilities, our daily discomforts…we have achieved nothing more than stunted our maturity and evolution; leaving the vast population of the world adult-sized children. 

Technology, laws, politics and even gender have all progressed towards the alleviation of pain which we can argue is a good thing. We have medicine to mend our ills, we can communicate faster than sneezing, and we have a thousand apps to short-cut our road to meaning. 

But in our drive to eliminate pain we have removed the very thing that builds character, fortitude, and resilience. Pain is a constant in life, unavoidable and necessary, and through that pain, we learn, grow and mature. 

I think it’s bloody marvelous that we are collectively experiencing a form of suffering. I think it’s about time the culture of self-idolisation gets a paddy-whack on the behind, and I believe that we will be better off for it. 

Yes, those that have been coddled and encouraged to expect the world to pander to their distress over a late takeaway order will find this time glorious for other reasons; they can justify their need for drama and continue to hide behind meaningless distractions by sharing their opinion loudly on social platforms. But there will be others who will not only rise but sink. 

Sink into their values, their perception of the world and their placement within it. Sink into the contemplation of how their time is spent, the quality of their relationships, the pursuits that have stolen their integrity. 

We have swaddled our society with a dichotomy of freedom of self and servitude of validation. We do ourselves no favors by softening our ability to suffer. In our exponential worship of productivity, we have passed the buck on suffering. We have diluted our inner strength with price tags and hashtags. 

Our planet suffers (but not with the promise of an emerging nobility as a consequence) while we live like kings and trade nobility of spirit for the right to complain. Necessary suffering is beneficial. Contemplation is essential. I hope to see a lot less of the former as we emerge from our caves. 

I have seen the most beautiful displays of solidarity and true connection. I have seen the walls of race, income, and gender dissolved by the walls we isolate behind. And that is beautiful. Because we have forgotten to worry about likes, gossip and who is right in any given argument. 

As always, my advice remains the same. Embrace the pain. Be thankful for the suffering. Not just now, but for your whole human experience. Within its alchemy, you will rid yourself of all the illusions that have masked your courage and expansive dreams. 

We can’t run anymore.

We must stay with the discomfort.

And that is a gift that doesn’t come around often. 

Love from this human to you.

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Just How Anxious Are You?

Recently I got honest with myself (I do this frequently but I tend to shy away from the deeper truths I need to ignore in order to fight another day). The true status of my anxiety and stress levels was one such truth I preferred to keep in a shoebox. Sealed. Buried. Ignored and disavowed. 

Until the other night when I felt what it was like to occupy my body without anxiety and stress. 

This wasn’t a conscious choice, I didn’t set out to connect with anxiety (because it didn’t exist right?) the experience kind of…unfolded within me. I’d love to report it was a large shock wave of realisation and profound insight…but it was more…relaxation. 

*Gasp?!!* 

I’d relaxed before!

I know how to relax dammit!

I have a Netflix, Amazon and Redbull subscription ffs! 

No… this was nothing like that. 

This was the by-product of a recent reestablishment of boundaries, saying no to a few individuals (legally), and accepting the fact that the ‘enjoyment’ and ‘nothing’ segments of my personal pie chart were equally important as ‘work’ and ‘sacrifice’. 

I had no idea how much worry and anxiety my above list was causing until they were gone. How could I? Every aspect of our lives almost guarantees anxiety to some level or other. Even if your pie chart is glowing with perfection, that’s also a cause for anxiety, isn’t it?

What if it stops glowing?

How do I keep it safe? 

We know the impact of high stress and anxiety; sleeplessness, short tempers, difficulty building authentic relationships, inability to focus, poor health… I’ll stop there before I sound like google and inform you of the 1, 000 082 possible ways to die. 

We know anxiety surrounds us, but how do we really relieve ourselves from it’s glum and health-impacting shadow? 

Courage and honesty people!Courage to face what you fear. Honesty to go after what you need and say no to what you don’t. 

Ignoring our problems and things that scare us doesn’t make them go away, in fact, all we succeed in doing is turning them into fast-growing, resilient weeds that feed on our passion and happiness. 

There really is only one solution when we want to turn our minds and hearts into happily flourishing weed-free gardens…and that is to stand firm and live your truth. 

Even if your truth upsets others. 

Even if living your truth scares you. 

Even if protecting your truth results in conflict and change.

Live. Your. Truth.

When you bravely put yourself first – on every level – you will not only see the change but feel it. And that’s where the magic is, the beautiful feelings of peace, acceptance, worth, and love.

I got to experience two enchanting, anxiety-free nights and I highly recommend it. I have felt stress slowly make its way back into my life but after tasting nirvana, I can promise you, and myself, to be vigilant in my anxiety-deletion-practice.

Go out there and be brave 

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The Russian Revitalisation – Climbing Mt.Elbrus

The Russian Revitalisation – Climbing Mt.Elbrus

There are some of us born with a restlessness that is so infused within our being it can never be quenched.

A yearning for new:

New horizons.

New experiences.

New challenges.

A yearning to relieve ourselves from a fear of nothingness. That empty void where conformity, boredom and time threaten our sense of self. We try to fit within the structures that surround us, using careers, relationships and responsibilities to camouflage our true nature. We battle silently with these two selves, giving just enough oxygen to both that we may conquer another day.

But so much time is consumed by the requirements of our lives, we must carve out moments where we can leave. Escape. Pretend for a few short days that all the emails, phone calls, bills and routine have not dampened the dreams we had. We leave for the mountains, with a singular desire to live unfettered. Our only pursuit—laughter, challenge, connection, beauty—and revisiting all the emotional debris we’ve picked up since our last adventure.

Russia was calling.

And I answered.

I spend a lot of time travelling to the wild, but there is something different about planning for big mountains. By necessity, one needs months of organisation, a physical and admin-filled preparation that requires you to spend a lot of thought on your expectations and motives.

I was excited to recapture the camaraderie and freedom that only isolation can bring. Like-minded people from around the globe coming together to give voice to their restless spirits, and in so doing, lay some demons to rest.

Although I never thought to feel secure within her borders or feel the love that I did, I understood Russia well. I felt as if I walked through a brick and mortar construction of my own life. Well maintained facades that cover a past dredged in Cold War subservience. Yet despite the alleyways hinting at extant poverty, there were unbelievably vibrant splashes of creativity and uniqueness. Broken chains celebrated in colour and music. This was a nation flirting with freedom and revelling in expression.

The Caucasus mountains were as unforgiving as the country that housed them. Jagged peaks reaching continuously through shifting clouds and a war-torn past. And there sat Elbrus; soft, alluring, and entirely misleading in its gentleness and rounded crest. Steep slopes that once housed a German-occupied vantage point, alone in its vigil, challenging those who wished to summit it.

Again I was aware of how my current mindset was reflected in the scenery surrounding me. I have spent the last six months slowing down, freeing myself from emotional garments I have outgrown and stopped desiring. Trying to come to terms with a new, softer, gentler me. Yet still fully aware that beneath my eroded shell, lives a tall and lonely peak.

It was a realisation that found its validity when I decided to turn back before the summit. I wanted to fail. I wanted to see if I could honour my newly formed self. A self that didn’t rely on achievement to define my right to exist. A self that placed self-love before ego. A self that could glide past failure and still smile and feel joy.

Every step I take in my life, whether it be the small act of preparing food for my daughter or treading on mountain paths, is a way for me to see. See who I am. Explore my soul from new angles. Contemplate the deeply beautiful mystery that is humanity. Uncover buried layers and say goodbye to others.

And above all, step further into love.

My third big mountain did not bring me the summit photo and (admittedly awesome) bragging rights, but it did bring me peace. A contentment that needed finality away from predefined roles and beliefs. It was the progenitor for my next chapter.

As I write this, a smile lifts my face, I feel profound gratitude for all the different threads that have interlaced my existence. I freely admit there have been heart-destroying anguish punctuating my life, sometimes these memories raise their heads and threaten my ability to recognise all the equally heart-breaking majesty that our world holds. It is for this reason that I move towards the new.

Our perspective shifts and changes as we come to know and love the gloriously complex tapestry that is us. Sometimes, we need to deliberately seek out new ingredients in order for our perspective to welcome in new possibilities.

It was only a few short days, but my Russian adventure scored its indelible mark on my soul. Thank you Vitaly, Kate, Jason, Gabriel, Solveiga, Antony, Katrina, Cameron, Chris and Mark for sharing with me your lives, insights, laughter and wisdom. The Buff lives!

Check out the photos on Instagram

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The Great Divide: Married versus Divorced

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The Great Divide: Married versus Divorced

The Great Divide: Married versus Divorced

This is for the singles, the never married, the divorced and the ones who worry that by living differently they are somehow wrong.

I’ll admit that the first few months post my separation I felt… exposed. It felt like I had spent as long as I could remember housed in a small box which, while unhappy and suffocating, had provided my world with edges I could lean against. Becoming officially separated left me feeling raw, vulnerable and deeply uncomfortable with the sudden amount of space around me.

Speaking to people was a challenge, I was fully aware of the invisible ‘divorcee’ tattooed on my forehead. Every interaction was an effort for both myself and talking partner, to not draw attention to it.

Nevertheless I soldiered on and gradually began to enjoy the abundant air I could breathe again. But this story isn’t about how I got through my divorce. This story is about the differences in married and divorced people and the still existing stigma associated with those baring the brand. I’ve wanted to write this for a while but for various reasons refrained. Until this morning over a cup of coffee when a conversation was recounted to me and the need to say this rose again.

Apparently ‘divorced people’ are known to live and speak their lives ‘outside’ of themselves, while those still married do all their living privately. Married people ‘suck it up’ so to speak. This observation was meant as an insult but I took it as a compliment.

And here’s why:

The entire concept of marriage is outdated and has its roots in economic and political improvement rather than a union of love. Over the centuries individuals began to choose their marriage partner and that decision came to be based on love. It would have been better if that metamorphosis had never taken place as way back then, happiness within the marriage was not expected. A business or family arrangement was, and therefore mentally prepared for.

But happiness within the union is expected now. Oh yes. Somehow, people all over the world have convinced themselves that a magical place called ‘happily ever after’ exists and they bought a ticket to get there.

Now here is what I find profoundly strange. If your car stops working, you either fix it or get a new one. If your business or career is going nowhere you do the same. There is literally nothing in our shared or individual lives where we hang on so tightly to something that has stopped serving us.

Except marriage.

The joke is that marriages are expected to fail and so the ground work was planned in advance with the inserted clause: ‘for better or worse, richer or poorer, death till us part’. Some may find that sentiment (rule?) romantic, I find it terrifying.

I also laugh at the level of appreciation we offer towards couples celebrating their 50th or above wedding anniversary. Wow well done we say! Kind of the same praise we give a cancer survivor or someone who swam naked in the Arctic for a week. The impossibility of it mixed with the enormous difficulty is applauded. We intrinsically know that’s it’s an extremely difficult undertaking with few rewards.

Wow you stayed with one person for that long and you both still live? Here, have a party hat and a cake.

But I digress.

When you are unhappily married for whatever reason and you have decided to (or are forced to) remain in that marriage, your world, your mind, your dreams, pretty much your everything shrinks down to a size you can cope with. A small enough world that you can convince yourself is enjoyed. Small enough to ‘suck up’.

Confrontation, needs, desires, truth… fuck… everything that you as an individual need and hope for is eventually sacrificed on the alter of ‘making it work’. And when it doesn’t work, instead of the external broken thing (the marriage) changing, the individual must change to accommodate it; loosing their truth, passion, love and happiness.

I’ve watched married couples, watched the underlying bitterness, resentment, dislike, sadness – all those unexpressed and squashed emotions – play themselves out within the box the couple created. And I wonder why they keep doing it to themselves.

Yes. Divorced people speak and live outside of our selves. We don’t need to pretend anymore. We don’t need to keep quiet for fear of repercussions. We don’t have to sacrifice to keep the peace. We don’t even need to pretend that we still find our partner attractive.

By now the married people are probably starting to get offended. What about the children you ask! What about commitment and getting through the tough times they shout!

Well… what about that? Being married or divorced doesn’t make you a good parent. That choice is a personal one and how you want to provide emotionally and financially for your children shouldn’t change according to a piece of paper. The reality is even if that legal union remains intact there is no guarantee of good parenting. Raising children in an unhappy home is another topic altogether.

And getting through the tough times? Sure, we all go through it and we all need support. But if those tough times are not from outside sources but rather from the simple fact that you don’t like your partner, have nothing in common and have reached a point where their breathing irritates you – that’s not toughing it out. That’s being stupid.

My point is this: in our current world we have the extreme privilege of choice. If you are happily married I applaud you and wish you well, love should always be revered and celebrated. If you feel that way about your other half I can deduce that the bond you have is not dependent on a piece of paper but rather a genuine liking and loving of each other. Go team!

If however, you are suffering through an unhappy union, afraid of change, afraid of failure, afraid of everything that comes after crossing over to the ‘divorced’ side of life… then I say start living and speaking outside of that box.

I won’t lie to you and promise happily ever after. But I will promise you the opportunity to breathe again. To think, feel and act according to who you truly are and used to be. Don’t you dare put a commitment you made in good faith however many years ago before your own life.

Everything, but I mean everything in life changes – don’t let it be he death of your soul.

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A Moroccan Wandering – Climbing Toubkal

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I am a person who likes to plan; in order for my detailed intentions to manifest I need information. My research into Marrakech and the mountain I would climb outside its walls weaved a strange feeling within me. Morocco had never been high on my travel list, my reason for going was to climb Mount Toubkal, visiting the red city was an added bonus that initially brought me no anticipation.

But as I read about the history and poured over pictures I began to incorporate that portion of the trip into my eagerness. Yet still – I was aware that I was lacking the restless sparkle that usually flutters around my body and mind like a drunken fly whenever I am looking forward to something.

I wanted to disappear on rocky slopes, enjoy the smoothing out of emotions that snow manages to create within my soul as it does to mountain facades. The focus therefore was the climb – and not the city.

I have been home two weeks and been wanting to capture my travels with words, but the shape of them would not form. I was still pondering what, if any, my latest experience had taught me. For starters I was acutely aware that my desire to live a nomadic life stripped of all the gadgets that kept me bound materially had gained the upper hand, I was struggling to reconcile the end of my adventures with the return to to the mundane.

Normalcy and routine truly are a poison to the soul – lulling you into a belief of security when in truth the senses are dulled and daily actions are governed by autopilot. I yearned to return, but knew I had to allow the moment in time to pass behind me, content with memories and the gentle shaping the Atlas Mountains had imprinted.

My best friend witnessed my struggle to emerge back into reality and in an effort to help me get my mojo back she drove me to the local bungee jump (without sharing our destination with me). When we arrived I thought she was joking – it was only after she emerged from the ticketing office with a wristband and a man brandishing a harness that I knew she was dead serious.

Fear settled onto me as I contemplated the next 30 minutes of my life, I gave a half hearted protest but soon found myself closeted in the cage that would take me to the top of the crane. I enjoy fear, I enjoy overcoming it and I am (quite literally) addicted to adrenalin – so I couldn’t understand why the feeling of dread was not transforming into glee.

At the jump ledge I sat meekly while my ankles were harnessed and cast surreptitious glances at the ground meters below me, which was apparently against the rules as my bungee instructor kept telling me.

Fully constrained I hopped to the edge, toes resting on air and both hands gripping the rail without any intention of letting go. It was beginning to dawn on me that I might not jump, despite having jumped much higher locations before. My heart felt no excitement or anticipation – it was too busy drumming out a litany of impending doom.

I went to sit back down, slapped myself a few times and tried my up and at ’em Son self motivation statement then hopped back to the ledge. Again I was defeated and again I retreated. My third and final attempt ended with a fuck that! and an unglamorous scrambling to get the rope off my legs. There was no way I was going to jump. I had to suffer through a lecture by the instructor before he called the cage back. Something about letting go of control and trusting others. Bla bla bla.

Later that evening while contemplating what had happened to prevent me doing something I would normally have loved, the knowledge I had been seeking revealed itself.

Marrakech is a contradiction of life; a swirling mass of people, religion and space that seamlessly merges the ancient with the contemporary. The narrow streets are bordered by crumbling walls with waning decorations, yet strangely devoid of litter. Despite the chaos of navigating your movements around bicycles, anarchic scooters and meandering walkers – the people showed no antagonism as they glided past each other.

Children ran free with glowing faces and chubby bodies, stopped only to be offered affection, sometimes by seeming strangers. I was struck by how openly doting the men were, considering our western prejudices against the Arab culture. It was clear that although poverty seemed to rule the majority, it’s influence ended at monetary, within their hearts there was a visible ease.

The polarity of Moroccan life narrowed as we began our trek through the Atlas mountains. We walked past small villages serviced by overladen mules navigating the detritus of tourist littered paths, the landscape reflecting the conditions of the people; dry and arid with hidden stretches of lush growth.

Steep, pebble strewn slopes greeted us, interspersed with arbitrary stops where carpets or fresh orange juice could be found. It was clear we had not travelled to a remote location but were in fact treading upon an old and established way of life that had incorporated us into it’s daily cycles and commerce.

When our boots found the snow line I breathed in the achromatic smells and sight, enjoying the purely raw emotion soothing me… or perhaps I breathed out everything I had brought with me from home. That, after all, was why I was there, it was why we were all half a world away looking up with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. Another mountain to conquer yes – but to also absorb these series of paused moments. A balm to the sacrifices we make for success, and a benediction to our spirits.

We reached the summit a few minutes before sunrise, only the promise of a glow revealing the neighbouring peaks. Witnessing the expansion of colour and light was the perfect finale to both our climb and the deep feeling of contentment that filled me. Exhilaration, beauty and camaraderie rewarded our hours of nighttime climbing, I looked at all my companions – people I had known for only four days – and thought how truly necessary it is to share and connect.

There are few opportunities in life when we can be deeply vulnerable and openly display the spectrum of human emotions we try so hard to filter when at home. Climbing a mountain with others requires that we do this: the fear, doubt, pain, exhaustion, intimacy, hope, elation and gratitude are all openly shared. That – more than anything else – is the balm.

Which brings me full circle.

As time passes in our lives we learn what it is we truly want, and what it is we don’t. We learn that we need courage to say yes to what is new, and equal courage to say no to what others may want from us. We learn that life is a rainbow of contradictions; fear and love, freedom and obligation, past and present, tranquil mountains and bustling metropolis.

Our world is unbelievably diverse, as is the range of experiences open for the taking. But we have to participate, and in that participation practice non-attachment. A few days ago I stood on a ledge and told my ego to take a jump while I descended at a more sedate pace. A week before that I stood on the peak of a snow laden mountain and thought my heart would burst from joy.

Until I can envelop myself so completely in the next adventure, I will practice non-attachment to the contradictions, highs and lows that our lives are made of. Continue in my choice to connect with not only my own life, but to others as well… because an authentic life is perhaps the only true staple to get us through.

Thank you Corrine, Maria, Carlos, Marisa, Valter, Andre, Vicky and Sean for over-poured gins, brain-cleansing stash, snake aversion, shared paths, discovering the full capabilities of the human snore, charades, free medication and a week that will forever bring me smiles.

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The post A Moroccan Wandering – Climbing Toubkal appeared first on Sonia Killik.

A Moroccan Wandering – Climbing Toubkal

I am a person who likes to plan; in order for my detailed intentions to manifest I need information. My research into Marrakech and the mountain I would climb outside its walls weaved a strange feeling within me. Morocco had never been high on my travel list, my reason for going was to climb Mount Toubkal, visiting the red city was an added bonus that initially brought me no anticipation.

But as I read about the history and poured over pictures I began to incorporate that portion of the trip into my eagerness. Yet still – I was aware that I was lacking the restless sparkle that usually flutters around my body and mind like a drunken fly whenever I am looking forward to something.

I wanted to disappear on rocky slopes, enjoy the smoothing out of emotions that snow manages to create within my soul as it does to mountain facades. The focus therefore was the climb – and not the city.

I have been home two weeks and been wanting to capture my travels with words, but the shape of them would not form. I was still pondering what, if any, my latest experience had taught me. For starters I was acutely aware that my desire to live a nomadic life stripped of all the gadgets that kept me bound materially had gained the upper hand, I was struggling to reconcile the end of my adventures with the return to to the mundane.

Normalcy and routine truly are a poison to the soul – lulling you into a belief of security when in truth the senses are dulled and daily actions are governed by autopilot. I yearned to return, but knew I had to allow the moment in time to pass behind me, content with memories and the gentle shaping the Atlas Mountains had imprinted.

My best friend witnessed my struggle to emerge back into reality and in an effort to help me get my mojo back she drove me to the local bungee jump (without sharing our destination with me). When we arrived I thought she was joking – it was only after she emerged from the ticketing office with a wristband and a man brandishing a harness that I knew she was dead serious.

Fear settled onto me as I contemplated the next 30 minutes of my life, I gave a half hearted protest but soon found myself closeted in the cage that would take me to the top of the crane. I enjoy fear, I enjoy overcoming it and I am (quite literally) addicted to adrenalin – so I couldn’t understand why the feeling of dread was not transforming into glee.

At the jump ledge I sat meekly while my ankles were harnessed and cast surreptitious glances at the ground meters below me, which was apparently against the rules as my bungee instructor kept telling me.

Fully constrained I hopped to the edge, toes resting on air and both hands gripping the rail without any intention of letting go. It was beginning to dawn on me that I might not jump, despite having jumped much higher locations before. My heart felt no excitement or anticipation – it was too busy drumming out a litany of impending doom.

I went to sit back down, slapped myself a few times and tried my up and at ’em Son self motivation statement then hopped back to the ledge. Again I was defeated and again I retreated. My third and final attempt ended with a fuck that! and an unglamorous scrambling to get the rope off my legs. There was no way I was going to jump. I had to suffer through a lecture by the instructor before he called the cage back. Something about letting go of control and trusting others. Bla bla bla.

Later that evening while contemplating what had happened to prevent me doing something I would normally have loved, the knowledge I had been seeking revealed itself.

Marrakech is a contradiction of life; a swirling mass of people, religion and space that seamlessly merges the ancient with the contemporary. The narrow streets are bordered by crumbling walls with waning decorations, yet strangely devoid of litter. Despite the chaos of navigating your movements around bicycles, anarchic scooters and meandering walkers – the people showed no antagonism as they glided past each other.

Children ran free with glowing faces and chubby bodies, stopped only to be offered affection, sometimes by seeming strangers. I was struck by how openly doting the men were, considering our western prejudices against the Arab culture. It was clear that although poverty seemed to rule the majority, it’s influence ended at monetary, within their hearts there was a visible ease.

The polarity of Moroccan life narrowed as we began our trek through the Atlas mountains. We walked past small villages serviced by overladen mules navigating the detritus of tourist littered paths, the landscape reflecting the conditions of the people; dry and arid with hidden stretches of lush growth.

Steep, pebble strewn slopes greeted us, interspersed with arbitrary stops where carpets or fresh orange juice could be found. It was clear we had not travelled to a remote location but were in fact treading upon an old and established way of life that had incorporated us into it’s daily cycles and commerce.

When our boots found the snow line I breathed in the achromatic smells and sight, enjoying the purely raw emotion soothing me… or perhaps I breathed out everything I had brought with me from home. That, after all, was why I was there, it was why we were all half a world away looking up with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. Another mountain to conquer yes – but to also absorb these series of paused moments. A balm to the sacrifices we make for success, and a benediction to our spirits.

We reached the summit a few minutes before sunrise, only the promise of a glow revealing the neighbouring peaks. Witnessing the expansion of colour and light was the perfect finale to both our climb and the deep feeling of contentment that filled me. Exhilaration, beauty and camaraderie rewarded our hours of nighttime climbing, I looked at all my companions – people I had known for only four days – and thought how truly necessary it is to share and connect.

There are few opportunities in life when we can be deeply vulnerable and openly display the spectrum of human emotions we try so hard to filter when at home. Climbing a mountain with others requires that we do this: the fear, doubt, pain, exhaustion, intimacy, hope, elation and gratitude are all openly shared. That – more than anything else – is the balm.

Which brings me full circle.

As time passes in our lives we learn what it is we truly want, and what it is we don’t. We learn that we need courage to say yes to what is new, and equal courage to say no to what others may want from us. We learn that life is a rainbow of contradictions; fear and love, freedom and obligation, past and present, tranquil mountains and bustling metropolis.

Our world is unbelievably diverse, as is the range of experiences open for the taking. But we have to participate, and in that participation practice non-attachment. A few days ago I stood on a ledge and told my ego to take a jump while I descended at a more sedate pace. A week before that I stood on the peak of a snow laden mountain and thought my heart would burst from joy.

Until I can envelop myself so completely in the next adventure, I will practice non-attachment to the contradictions, highs and lows that our lives are made of. Continue in my choice to connect with not only my own life, but to others as well… because an authentic life is perhaps the only true staple to get us through.

Thank you Corrine, Maria, Carlos, Marisa, Valter, Andre, Vicky and Sean for over-poured gins, brain-cleansing stash, snake aversion, shared paths, discovering the full capabilities of the human snore, charades, free medication and a week that will forever bring me smiles.

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The Light of Duality

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Duality.

The curse of humanity. And it’s protector.

To be elevated to the ecstasy of love, and then crushed to the depths of pain.

Birth and death. Gain and loss.

We all entwined in a myriad of ropes that both strangle and propel. Our genders, societies, cultures, dreams and deepest desires – nothing escapes the rules that duality imposes. Even within the freedom of our souls or the supposed autonomy of our minds – we are slaves to it. We yearn to grow and change what we do not like nor want – but resist the path that will take us there. We seek to connect to others and our world, but blind ourselves by the differences that separate us.

I find it fascinating that after evolving for so long, with so many discoveries absorbed and mysteries unveiled – we are still seeking the truth of who we are. And in that quest duality has remained the puppet master; that humanity can be so knowledgeable and ignorant both.

Is there an end to the spiral of truth?

Collectively we have peeled back so many layers of understanding. From the enormity of our galaxies to the infinitesimal wonder of particles. And still we know that the surface is just a reflection and we are yet to dive in.

Individually we mature and accept more and more aspects of our psyches, believing we have found the end of the tangled web and can now settle into security.

But what a beautiful illusion we have weaved for ourselves. There is no end. And no beginning.

There is only continuation.

Life is not meant to stand still…. perhaps duality is more powerful than the four forces of the universe that allow life to exist at all. Duality forces growth, expansion and reflection – there is no power available to halt its ruthless and never ceasing progression. It ensures the continuity of life through the cycle of death, and it demands that we never become complacent through inaction.

Inaction is not stillness though, for their outcomes will always be different. We might convince ourselves of their similarities but one requires thought and the other resistance.

Stillness; my most challenging manifestation of our dual existence – to be still within and honour the slow dance of our souls, while our outside lives twist and turn and churn up all you thought you knew.

Tonight I choose stillness.

It is a perfect summer’s evening, the light is flickering because I prefer candles to the illumination that comes without shadows. I prefer shadows… they are a necessity to balance over-exposure. My latest classical love affair is playing loudly. I have deadlines and commitments piling up around me, commitments I need to meet and admin that should probably be faced.

But I choose tonight to rather write and ponder the ever changing landscape that is life. What a wonderful ability that is… that we can be both trapped within the responsibilities of our lives and still take these brief moments to say f*ck you world and f*ck you duality.

Tomorrow I will tackle the opposite of this peace for there is always a reckoning that cannot be escaped. But for now… I’ll enjoy the stars a little longer and marvel at their size compared to mine.

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The post The Light of Duality appeared first on Sonia Killik.