I love an adventure. The world is spinning on and our experience of it follows. When we allow ourselves to experience the world, we become more vital for it.

 

This week I’ve been doing some work to the west of me, and to the east. A project was handed in and the excuse was used for road trips. I was doing some work, and we went on an adventure. Taking paths less travelled, with our kit in the jeep, not traveling light, but traveling lighter. We had our supplements, and food, and stove, and clothes, and books, and computers, and all the other bits we use to run our businesses.

 

You know that feeling when you set off on an adventure, to a time and place that you’ve not been too before? The different energies that intrude into your world view. Well, I experienced all of those energies. As you might imagine the first part of our journey was familiar, as its within 20 miles from home, on roads I’ve travelled often, past sights I’ve seen before.

 

Our experience of the spin of the world is different when we pay attention. What I’ve noticed about driving the breadth of this country over the last few days is that the more we pay attention the more power we have.

 

And.

 

This is the important.

 

The more your experience changes when we notice what is going on.

 

We got to our first way point, a place where we could rest, eat some yummy food and use the facilities. This waypoint was a new one for us, as its not on our usual route, and we only noticed it from one of those laminated signed stapled to a stick, banged into the verge.

 

You know the ones right? That the lamination is not good and the text is running in the rain?

 

We found our way to this farm, a farm that had collected all her neighbours produce and was selling it. Local meat and veg, to art and chocolate. Warm fresh baked bread and sandwiches made by someone used to making sandwiches for farm laborious. Butter so thick you could re-surface a road with it, pickle so sharp and home-made your tongue danced, and cheese made from the local goat’s milk, that were trying to eat our car.

 

The experience of this new place, of food that was alive, is completely at odds with that of grabbing a sandwich from a service station or supermarket. The sensations that came were different. The feelings that filled me were different.

 

We drove on.

 

Our jeep is not the fastest in the world, and if you go more than 60 you are aware of it. We ate the miles, stopping to see castles, little chicks and donkeys.

 

Dear in the verges, and then.

 

Then, the light began to glimmer and twinkle as if on silver jewellery. The sun pushed her way through her blanket of off-white clouds and the sea glimmered in front of us.

 

We live near the sea, and as I’m sure you are aware, the common loses its magic.

 

Common magic becomes, well, common. The inspiration that flows from a new experience is not present in an experience that you half see every day. We wove down the hills, the rugged red cliffs down to the red sands.

 

The bite of the cold wind vastly different from the warm fug of the cars interior. Feeling and seeing around me I felt the wind in my beard, the salt air in my nose, the waves soft grind on the slate and sand.

 

The connection I felt to my experience was different. I was aware of more, and the experience was different.

 

We set up camp and went to sleep. When I say sleep, I mean, I snored.

 

The next day our adventure continued, into a town, with food, laughter, old friends and new.

 

The surprise came with the unexpected realisation of a performance from a storyteller extroandare. A troubadour, a bard, a skald and myth maker.

 

We drove into the darkness, down roads guarded by the glimmering eyes of sheep and goats. Down tracks that Siri did not know existed, to a place that was hidden in the drapes of night. Disguised by the branches of ancient oaks and beach. A place where myth lived, and story danced.

 

The story of an ancient Irish warrior, his lady, of righted wrongs and wronged rights. Of honour and love. Of birth, life and death. A princess appeased and a lord betrayed. Of the emergence after the storm. Of discovering what remains and what re-grows.

 

We emerged into the frozen night, the moon dancing with the clouds. The rain chased away by the wind’s burly dogs. The night filled with the awed voices; words spoken in hushed tones of the experience shared. Of the messages missed and understood. Of the legend borne and re-told.

 

And how fricking cold it was.

 

We returned to our nest, discovered our sleep, and journeyed into the soft land of sleep.

 

The morning dawned red, the suns glow dripping like lava’s rosey glow. We packed our supplies into our vessel of adventure and began the slow meander to find that which is most needed after an evening of story and adventure.

 

The magic bean.

 

Coffee.

 

What is magic with this adventure is that by focusing on that awareness, the awareness of the immediate, not what is to come, or what has been, allowed me to feel the feels.

 

The awe of the red sands on the beach. The pain and suffering of Finn, Dermot and Grainne, rumble of my tires over the poor roads.

 

So the point of my story is thus, when I felt into my immediate experience. Let my body do what it needed to do to sense the world and my experience of life, then my sensations of the world became more vivid.

 

By bringing myself into the now, by taking time to oriented myself to what my eyes see, my ears hear, my skin feels, my nose smells and my tongue tastes. AND what my heart feels. I become aware of the sensations of the world around me. Beyond those of the Instagram notification, or the radio, or the email. The deer in the woods, the sheep in the field. The crow in the bush. The guineafowl hiding in the long grass.

 

I allowed myself to feel what my body was telling me, and this allowed my sensations to deepen.