LESS EGO / MORE SOUL

I have been on the road for about three months now, and I have travelled to what I would say is the most beautiful place in the world. These mountains broke my soul, in the best of ways, taking me into a divine state of grace. With tears in my eyes and a dove in my heart, I felt satisfied and whole at the sight of beauty. I hope you feel this way sometime; empty and complete, full of gratitude, wanting nothing, needing nothing more than what is present. And the beauty of the world does not stop with the land. I have also found it refracted in the souls of many who were once strangers to me.

We were camped out in a valley in the Andes, nowhere in particular. The days were warm and sunny but the nights were crazy cold. My sleeping bag wasn’t really enough up in the mountains, so I would often Every morning I would wake up with numb fingers and toes. This is what got me out of my hammock, to run up the hill, over frost covered grass and sumberge myself in the warm waters of the natural hot springs. From dawn till midday, I’d stay naked in the hot pools, bathing and talking with new friends. As the sun rose over the mountains, we would gradually migrate down to the cooler natural swimming pools. The first week at the festival was a little isolating at times, as my spanish wasn’t very good and not many people spoke english, but by the second week my spanish had improved a lot and I made many friends.

I remember meeting David from Switzerland when I first arrived. From the moment my hazel eyes met his, soft and  brown, I  found myself crushing on him big time. He was perfect, bar the fact that he could not speak a word of english.  At first we both tried to communicate through our pigeon spanish, but it was frustrating and we both soon gave up (his first language is french).

A week later, on an ominous, rainy night, I went to check on my friends tent… Beneath the moonlight and raindrops, mud squelching beneath my boots, I made my way between the tents of “Camp Avalanche”. This is the name we had jokingly given the tents parked at the base of the crumbled mountainside.

I found my friend’s tent cold, damp and vacant. There was nothing I could really do about it while the rain was still falling, so I zipped it up and began to walk back to the kitchen where everyone was huddled. I’d taken about ten steps down the hill, when I heard the music; the most incredible, beautiful music calling me to find the source. I saw candlelight in a nearby tent. It took me a moment to find the courage to invite myself in, but when I finally did I was welcomed warmly by David and his Swiss brother from another mother: Jonathan. The two of them were so beautifully inseparable.

Tired and wet, I lay curled up like a cat in their tiny tent letting their melodies and rhythms wash over me as they  played my dreams into reality. What touched me most deeply about their music was that it was all improvised, never to be recorded or heard again. This was it and i savoured every note, tasting its flavour as it come forward and then melted into the greater composition of the moment.

Then the moment ended. Or changed, rather. After an hour of non-stop jamming, they were tired, but I didn’t want them to stop. Jonathan opened a box of cookies and passed it around. “Do you play?” David gestured, offering me the guitar. Swallowing my insecurities, (talk about a hard act to follow) I accepted the guitar and began to play and sing one of my own songs. It wasn’t long before  David picked up the other guitar and started to play with me. Then Jonathan fumbled for his flute and we played together in a timeless reality.  Without the need for words, music became our language and we jammed for another two hours, loosing all sense of time and pain despite our cramped positions, being three people and two guitars in a two-man tent.

Eventually we emerged from the tent, smiling, so god-damned high on life. The rain had ceased, the clouds parted and the moon was full.

After that it became absolutely necessary to jam together every day. We needed our fix.

Click here for part two.