<\/p>\n
We all have a place in the world, a moment when we felt complete, at total peace, and fully aligned. We finally reach the perfect harmony between our inner voice and its expression. In that moment, the gap between your potential and what the world allows shrinks to its smallest size. The air you breathe finally feels soothing instead of painful. As you experience this, a quiet voice whispers, \u201cDying now would actually be perfectly alright.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chaque personne a connu un endroit dans le monde, un instant parenth\u00e8se, o\u00f9 elle s\u2019est sentie entier, en paix, totalement align\u00e9e. \u00c0 ce moment pr\u00e9cis, il n\u2019y a pas de d\u00e9calage entre notre voix int\u00e9rieur et son expression dans le monde. L\u2019air que tu respires n\u2019\u00e9corche plus tes poumons. \u00c0 ce moment-l\u00e0, on peut se dire : \u00ab Tiens, je pourrais bien mourir ici, ce serait tr\u00e8s bien. \u00bb<\/p>\n
But then, life continues. Harmony is disrupted, potentials are overlooked, and what we have to offer is not welcome. Not long ago, I returned to one of these places of peace, a small mountain lake at the top of a remote valley I stumbled into as I was veering off my planned trail. I had hoped that the already-dying winter would make it accessible. It was a Tuesday, the perfect day to avoid tourists and weekend visitors. The scent of pine filled the air, the river flowed gently, and mountain goats and groundhogs were basking in an exceptional springlike sun. After three hours of hiking, I realised that dangerously melting snow prevented me from accessing the final part of the trail.<\/p>\n
Mais la vie reprend. L\u2019harmonie est bris\u00e9e, les silences recouverts, les potentiels ignor\u00e9s. Il n\u2019y a pas si longtemps, je suis retourn\u00e9e \u00e0 l\u2019un de ces lieu-miracles, en haut d\u2019une vall\u00e9e recul\u00e9e. C\u2019\u00e9tait un petit lac de montagne sur lequel j\u2019\u00e9tais tomb\u00e9e un merveilleux jour d\u2019automne en sortant de mon itin\u00e9raire pr\u00e9vu. En y revenant cette ann\u00e9e-l\u00e0, j\u2019avais esp\u00e9r\u00e9 que le printemps trop pr\u00e9coce aurait d\u00e9j\u00e0 fondu la neige et rendu les sentiers accessibles.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I try to walk on the melting snow, figuring out if I would slip or dive into it, holding on to the pointing juniper trees, trying to guess where the trail is. It\u2019s useless. I will not reach it. I must be a thousand feet from it.\u00a0 <\/span>I just arrived too early, and was almost there. And I came from so far. As I walk down, a bearded vulture flies to the lake. Trois, four, five\u2026 he reaches it in five seconds.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n En sortant de la for\u00eat de conif\u00e8res, je reconnais le flanc de montagne, mais la derni\u00e8re neige a compl\u00e8tement chang\u00e9 le paysage. Je cherche le sentier. Je crois le voir, je le perds ; je dois m\u2019arr\u00eater souvent pour me rep\u00e9rer. J\u2019essaye d\u2019\u00e9valuer si la neige tient, si ce sont des plaques glissantes ou solides sur lesquels je pourrais marcher, ou si je vais m\u2019enfoncer. Je m\u2019accroche aux gen\u00e9vriers, mais ils m\u2019emm\u00e8nent vers l\u2019ouest. Je tente de faire le tour, mais la pente recouverte de neige inconnue est trop raide. Je comprends que je n\u2019y arriverai pas. Je suis \u00e0 trois cents m\u00e8tres, et je suis venue de si loin. En redescendant, j\u2019entends un cri au-dessus de moi. Un vautour ou un gypa\u00e8te barbu remonte de la vall\u00e9e vers le lac en trois, quatre, cinq\u2026 cinq secondes.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I try to walk on the melting snow, trying to gauge whether I will slip or plunge into it. I cling to the pointing juniper trees, guessing where the trail is. No use; I know I won’t reach it. I must be a thousand feet away\u2026 almost there. I arrived too early, and I have come from so far. As I make my way down, a bearded vulture flies toward the lake. Three, four, five\u2026 it takes him five seconds to reach the lake.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n People are like these places we sometimes cannot reach. It all depends on showing up at the right season. A few months later, a few years earlier, and all could have been different. Reality is nothing but a very lucky potential.<\/p>\n Il est des personnes comme ces paysages qu\u2019on ne peut pas atteindre. Il faut arriver \u00e0 la bonne saison. Quelques ann\u00e9es trop t\u00f4t, quelques mois trop tard, et tout aurait pu \u00eatre diff\u00e9rent. Ce qui nous arrive n\u2019est rien d\u2019autre qu\u2019un possible qui a eu de la chance.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Relationships are nothing but miracles making their way in the parenthesis of our busy lives and our cluttered minds. The miracle lies not only in showing up at the right season, but also in being open to take a turn and walk a path you did not initially choose. It is about embracing the unexpected and the unfamiliar, allowing harmony rather than unison. The hard part is, both have to be ready a the same time. The frailty of this miracle is terrifying. You know rivers can overflow, a tree can fall on the trail, a rock can make you fall. But at least, you walked the trail. You showed up.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Chaque rencontre est un miracle qui se creuse une petite parenth\u00e8se au coeur de nos vies et de nos esprits encombr\u00e9s. Il ne faut pas seulement arriver au bon moment, il faut aussi \u00eatre ouvert \u00e0 prendre un virage et suivre un sentier impr\u00e9vu. Accueillir ce qui n\u2019est pas familier, tenter l\u2019harmonie plut\u00f4t que l\u2019unisson. Le pire, c\u2019est que les deux personnes doivent \u00eatre dans ces dispositions en m\u00eame temps. La fragilit\u00e9 de ce miracle est terrifiante. La rivi\u00e8re sous le pont que vous construisez peut d\u00e9border, un vent peut faire tomber un arbre et bloquer le sentier, une avalanche peut faire d\u00e9paper la falaise. Mais au moins, tu as pris ce sentier ; tu as r\u00e9pondu pr\u00e9sent.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Powerlessness leaves a pain that cannot soothe itself in meaning. There is no reason, no lesson to learn, no fixing you can do. The world was just not ready to welcome what you had to give. What do you do with that ? I have no idea.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Cette fable du lac n\u2019a aucune morale. Il n\u2019y a pas de raison pour laquelle je n\u2019ai pas pu le rejoindre. Pas de le\u00e7on \u00e0 en tirer, rien que j\u2019aurais pu mieux faire, rien d\u2019autre \u00e0 rencontrer. J\u2019aimerais bien pouvoir donner un sens \u00e0 cette impuissance, mais il n\u2019y en a pas. Et je pr\u00e9f\u00e8re la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 \u00e0 un faux sens<\/span> qui cicatrice. Et maintenant, qu\u2019est-ce que tu en fais \/ tu fais avec \u00e7a ? Je n\u2019en n\u2019ai aucune id\u00e9e.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span>QUOTE <\/b>La douleur de l\u2019impuissance ne peut pas se cicatriser dans le sens<\/p>\n <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We all have a place in the world, a moment when we felt complete, at total peace, and fully aligned. We finally reach the perfect harmony between our inner voice and its expression. In that moment, the gap between your potential and what the world allows shrinks to its smallest size. The air you breathe […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":4067,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":""},"categories":[17],"tags":[],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n