I sit there for a long while soaking up these indescribable moments. The stars, the desert, and Marie, enchanted like a little girl.
After a while there wafts a super sweet and heavy fragrance through the air. A bit like a stinkhorn, only in a very pleasant version.
The Squirrel: “Huh? What? Could there be a rotting carcass nearby?”
The Buddha: “If you let go of your negative thoughts your life will be much more peaceful.”
I go with the Buddha.
At 11 pm the animals go to bed. As if someone has flipped the switch, all noise dies. The silence adds to the experience.
I have never been so alone in the world and yet felt so connected.
Interestingly, when we say alone, we only refer to other people not being around. Out there in the wild, the concept of being alone does not exist. Truth is, it does not exist in civilization, either. But a thick veil of illusion is disguising that fact very cleverly.
How much more at one with the universe must the elders have felt, back when there was no noise, no light pollution, no crowds. Granted, they might have had no time for such musings, as a leopard was growling behind the next bush. Yet I do believe they were closer to unity, to the source, to the all-one.
Finally the tent is calling, and I am knackered plus have to get up early.
Foreseeably the hamster in my mind is still dancing salsa in his wheel. All those impressions keep me awake for some time.
All of a sudden, I hear a car approaching. Oh no! My heart starts beating harder. Is it the ranger? Is there a danger?
I listen closely but the sound seems to stay the same and not get louder. Weird.
After 10 minutes of hard harkening and no change in the humming I realize that the noise comes from the fridge underneath.
So here I am in the most forlorn of places, in total darkness and total silence. Bar my frickin’ fridge.
I finally fall asleep.
Later in the night, I wake up from “the urge” but also the cold. It is freeeeezing.
No sleep till Brooklyn in sight, so I decide to climb down the ladder to use the ablution facility and not my feta loo (ABBA, anyone?).
It is still the same special atmosphere outside – this time, however, the moon has gone AWOL, so it is pitch dark. Except for an even more splendid Milky Way, which I now can see expanding over the whole firmament.
This is probably my happiest have-to-get-up-at-night moment ever, and I wish I had booked 10 nights here instead of one.
But I do experience this in the first place, and could not be more grateful.