And my feet didn't slip on the wet boulders paving the stream flow. A flip flop at a time I squeeze tight my toes on rounded rocks and defy the ambient humidity pearling on my forehead. It's too hot, as usual, but evergreen leaves bar sun from burning my skin. I lower my gravity center on my knees and quietly crawl up to the fountain. I can finally dip into freshwater and get cool.
It was so cold and I couldn't count on a faint sun to warm me. Trees looked unfriendly with all their nude branches spiking thorns and dry barren pikes. Even the dusty ground was covered with brittle desiccated leaves cut like broken glass yet we all had to crawl on our ass downhill. Soon enough our palms were bruised and bleeding but hunger kept us from complaining. In the end it was just tree hugging and back up on the hands in order to get dirty on any inch of our clothes/skin that remained clean ...
Why did energy flow likewise? what is the common trigger of "oceanic" bliss?
It doesn't matter if I'm alone or with a bunch of people, it doesn't matter whether it's cold or hot, dry or humid, in the Pacific ocean or in the middle of a populated capital in central Europe.
I only have to be here, now and WILD.