This year I have set out to track my dream of being a ‘digital kite nomad’ (the digital bit means I get to work remotely on my laptop, the nomad bit, to live a few months at a time in some glorious location, and the kite bit – oh yeah!! – to kitesurf in the selfsame).
And this blog is an invitation for you to track (with) me on the adventure.
So there’s two tracks laid down already.
But there is a further sense in which I, too, am “tracking me”, which I want to at least mention to satisfy the full meaning of the blog’s title for me. Although this is much harder to explain and I’m not sure whether or how much I’ll be able to blog on it, but I will try and give it a mention at least.
So it’s something that started, gradually, over the past year and is a kind of hearing – and heeding – of a call from a place deep inside me, which I have been calling the Deep Self, and which I suppose I have been tracking, clumsily, like a novice Indian blundering noisily through the underbrush, giving myself away with every crack of leaf and twig.
Still, fortunately for me, the hunter is the hunted in this game, and so it is that the Deep Self tends to creep up on me from behind, surprise on its side, we head-butt each other and fall down laughing, or crying, or both, in a place that is entirely new.
There is so much that can’t be said about that place, or that I won’t say, because they would be words that have been said, written, repeated, a million times in a million ways, and never had the hearing of such words meant that I had been able to taste the experience of which they spoke, and when the experience ambushes me, it mocks my every attempt to put it into any words at all.
Except that it doesn’t mock. That’s what I mean. You can’t say it. I’m going in circles.
I am so noisily full of words all day long – words like tools for grabbing, possessing, demarcating – but the encounter with the Deep Self is the very opposite of that.
Try and demarcate the ocean wave that breaks over your body and sucks you under and spits you out bottom-side up. You won’t be able to, and what’s more, you’ll come up bottom-site up and wordless. It’s a bit like that.
But if I am to put a word to it (you knew it was coming, word junkie can’t leave it alone!) it would be Union.
The encounter of which I speak – or fail to – is indeed a profound unitive experience. It breathes to me of the indivisibility of me and God, and of me and me… I didn’t know quite how divided I had kept myself – lest I whispered to myself such deep truths that would make me impervious to the rule of fear! – didn’t know quite how apart I had kept God and me, lest… well, lest what exactly? Perhaps that: lest I would abandon the realm of certitudes and set out to wander lost and aimless into the great, magnificent, bewildering lap of God.
And who can say how long it’s been there, this Deep Self, and how long it’s been calling, but here I am beginning to enter into a dialogue of sorts with it, and it is healing me – as healing is whole-making – bit by bit “back together again”.
So those are the two tracks I wander – kite nomadry and Deep Self. Of the one I hope to post many pictures and a few anecdotes, of the other I may have to remain completely silent.
We will see…. 😉