Fear is a liar

Nine years I’ve been dreaming of this - since I listened, mouth agape, to my ‘cool’ cousin telling of his adventure at the same place. Now, because of those great things called ‘whims’, I am here.

Everywhere I look there are happy faces. The countless articles and stories tell of many things but they never just say, ‘You won’t see a stressed or sad or lonely person for a week.’
And yet, all these smiles make me feel melancholy. I am constantly fighting a habit of living anywhere but the present. And when I see all these smiles I am reminded of the furrowed brows, downward stares and judging eyes I must eventually return to.

But there was this one look. From a girl. She may have been over 50, but everyone here is a boy or a girl and sometimes a little bit of both. Everyone seems to be having too much fun to be a ‘man’ or a ‘woman’. Everyone seems to possess that intrigue, excitement and confidence towards each other that we are born with and then lose.

This one look. It was the moment. Everything is made up of moments but I had a feeling this moment would take up more than its share.

I hoped.

Dust clouds were billowing up around us, obscuring the sun and with it a sense of time. Music was coming in from at least three directions; swirling, mixing together with the dust, giving it colour. This girl looked over. And I had a better conversation in that moment than I had had in the past year. Everything I didn’t know I needed to hear was in her eyes.

She helped me do what I found near impossible; I lived completely within one moment. There was nothing either side of the seconds. No ifs, buts or maybes, because what is was happening and that was that.

Kind words. Colours. Generosity. No questions. A sense of safety. Unconditional understanding. Open arms.

They say this place is an escape from civilisation. I was only just realising it was an escape to it.