Solitude and Silence

Alone in the mountains in Spain, there is much opportunity to be silent. There is a stillness too that is almost tangible.

Today for four hours I was walking and running along the sandy, rocky, stony tracks and up steep steep climbs; while rain clouds gathered and swirled, dark blue, grey and low about the mountain tops.

I ran through wet misty air, all alone, no-one else; the sweeping grandeur all about….

There was a rustle in the trees – and suddenly just in front of me appeared a wild boar, followed closely by three more… Across my path and down the steep mountain side they went. I was very near them, shiny black robust – and then they were gone.

Hours and hours alone, moving easily allows for everything to disappear, and for the watcher to watch the running…

Later I drank coffee in the little bar where I had begun my day with coffee too… The circle complete. Spanish voices telling me about wild boar – jabalí… I understood most, but not all of the conversation; lending itself to the dream like quality of my time here in the Alpujarras…


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