Spiritual Retreat

Out of town. Way out in the so called wilderness: A bucolic setting. Mother nature showing off her splendorous beauty with a cascade of trees, flowers, fields, rivers. Mountains framing the complete isolation imposed by the rules of the game. Nine days in total silence. No ifs or buts. At lunch time, frugality and counted words. At dinner, with the sun bowing down to the vociferous cut of the horizon, a bit of rice, some plastic chicken supposedly made of tofu and there you go boy, ready to pack it in to spend a never ending night in the company of your own fears. The same old peers. Familiar? Yes indeed. But, do I really have to pay a bloody fortune to these guys to be sent out in a wild goose chase surrendering to an inhospitable territory that I know all too well?… At home, to be honest, I pay less, I eat better, I get to shower, but, ugh, I have to put up with my wife. “Don’t do this. Don’t do that. Not enough sugar. Too much salt.” Come in, darling; get out love. On the second day, almost ready to throw the towel like a boxer weathering the storm, I was tempted to call. To call who? To call my wife. Who else? No car to take me back. No bus. No train. No boat. Can I have my money back? Jai guru deva om. Breath in, keep it in, let it out. The lungs are the perfect spot to store happiness. Are you happy dear?… On the phone my wife came across loud and clear, very direct, to the point.

After a week (long period), or seven days marked on the wall of my cell with the nail clipper I carry with me, the answer was the same: NO. No excuses. No explanations. No turning back. The phone was not allowed. Seven days. Seven capital sins. Seven Christian values. I have two more centuries in front of me to accomplish the nine days journey. Yes, someday, somehow, I think I’ll be able to reach number nine. Number nine. Number nine. Whistling your favourite tunes from the Beatles was against the fucking rules as well. So here I go, from the top of my lungs: Jai guru deva om Nothing’s going to change my world Nothing’s going to change my world. Thank you Lennon. Thank you Lord.


Painting: Twisted new age fool

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