There is more juice to be got out of my day in Saint Tropez.
Feeling out of the flow is confusing. I can’t make decisions. I have so much to say but I don’t know where to start. Things feel difficult. I numb out. I waste time in front of the mirror. I try to pull the gel off my toenails. Hypnotised. Suspended. I eat things I don’t want to eat. I wonder what I am doing – now, today, ever.
Feeling in the flow I am open. I am seeing & receiving. I am quiet but looking out. I see the signs and I follow them. I know. I am sure – not always but it is okay. There is time to think. There is oneness in my encounters. I have conversations with strangers – sometimes meaningful, sometimes just happy ones with shop assistants telling me about their products, which still mean a lot. I am attracted and repelled. I observe. I use a little or a lot but it is enough. There is pleasure in the little things. Things start to make sense. It is all for a reason.
All I want is to be in the flow. It is like the funnest game you ever did play.
Maybe we are more aware of flow when we are travelling because we expect more and we are more vulnerable. We have time to follow new leads and time to stop for a chat. We want to discover the secrets of a place and uncover new parts of ourselves. All we want is this.
That Saturday I went to Saint Tropez I’d spent the morning feeling out of it and discovered how to get back into it.
Don’t underestimate the power of the plant.
Biophilia is what Lola Berry calls it. The healing power of nature. “If you’re feeling a bit tense, stressed, tired, anxious, unhappy or all of the above, then get out in nature, see vegetation, smell the countryside, feel the sun.” She practices it every Sunday as a rule.
Getting in the flow. Following feelings of wanting to explore. Being quiet. Which way looks the most beautiful or interesting?
I walk towards the cemetery along the shore. I stop to take photos of the flowers – the big bright pink bush with the backdrop of blue sea and the quiet white and purple growing out of the cracks in the pavement. I continue along the sandy sometimes shaded path – with the water lapping and crashing at the edges below. Sublime nature. Silenced by awe, I walk and walk until the sun is ready to set and I turn back.
In town, I climb a hill and arrive in time to take a couple’s sunset picture. I see a tourist painting the landscape in his book. I give directions to a husband & wife driving with a baby in the back and I realise they are deaf and reading my lips and hands. Everything feels like something. A barking dog and a bougainvillea. I come back to watch the big boats and the people in the port. The boats have a view of the setting sun and the people watch the boats. This is Saint Tropez, is it not?
When I arrive at the upstairs bar, I am told the free table I have seen on the balcony is reserved for a guest of the hotel. Okay, I surrender. I go to the bathroom and when I come out the waitress comes to tell me a table has just been freed. So I sit on the balcony with a view of the setting sun feeling like lady luck and making a meal out of the complimentary bar snacks. I watch the party on the yacht and investigate the details. I write in colour. Just as I am about to catch the boat back across to Saint Maxime, I see the dude Mr Gangnam Style fanning himself on a yacht and take a photo that turns out clearly. It’s the little things. I smile all the way home.
Getting in the flow, delighting in the unexpected. This is the way I choose to breathe, this is the way I like to travel.