I am listening to Opeth’s “Watershed” album, hence the odd title. But I feel like over the last few days with good friends and food, we found something in the back yard of the world that is a shed of happiness. Lilith has recovered from a head cold, we find ourselves at the peak of happiness (I’ve used that word a lot already), and in bliss when we walk outside.
The last few days have found clear weather with which to see the alps over Starnbergersee and smell fresh wind rolling out from the east– the last remnants of winter trying to keep its hold on the land as spring announces its presence with warmth and fervor found in any change that comes. The results for us have been euphoric, resting in the mornings under grey and misty clouds that give hints through the windows left open overnight, breaking away to reveal the sun for a few short hours. Before long though, the dark grey clouds bringing cold rain that affords a lasting scent on our clothes.
Over the last few days this cycle has come and repeated in varying spans of time, and we experience it alongside the huge lake or whilst sitting in a park, or walking in the forest with our favorite horse Guardian (whom Karin kindly cares for). The forest in itself was rewarding again this year, because it shielded from the rain but offered its own atmosphere. But the feeling of it was seasoned with Lilith’s own excitement, accented when she skipped away to get pictures in another part of the forest.
Most recently it has been coupled with our amazing hosts, Josef and Iris, whom have taken us into the shelter of their own home and shared their interests and taken us along to a neighborly campfire at another house, where beer and food were plenty, and the smiles were endless. And this experience, at least for me, reminded me of something simple that has perhaps escaped much of the humanity this world needs:
In any language, it is possible to share in the camaraderie of being human. We all understand each other when we do not speak the same language, and no one needs to rule the other. Here, at this fire where a Swede, two Americans, and some Germans and Bavarians, came a simple need to share each others idle company, and just feel comforted. The talk between myself, my lady and the others, no matter the language, seemed supplemental. I am in sincere belief that if none of us could speak, we could have sat in silence and smiled occasionally, and everyone would have drifted home eventually. There was no searching for a way to control or make money amongst us. No desire to prove who was the capable leader, no want to remind who was made of what ancestry, and who might be superior. There was the fire, the food, the drink and the laughter.
And we were beautifully lost in it.