The glide down

By special request from Jane, my lovely Bowen therapy practitionner.

So I have to think about the glide down now:

First of all we are holding hand, all of us who chose this adventure ...The paraglider is made for two, three, four, anynumber...The laws of physics do not apply in this dimension, except for those of the vibrations of music. Would you allow me to let Bocelli sing? or Callas? Ah! Once again freedom has been granted and each can hear their own music, to order. We decide to share the same sounds, solemn, grand, cheerful still.

How long the drop? Just as long as it takes for your flying lust to be assuaged. The descent is slow and floaty. It holds no regrets for the summit. The joy of it is profound. How wonderful to observe without greed, knowing that each scene which unfolds is instantly replayable in slow motion. Rocking and bobbing, the canopy looks reassuring taut above all our laughter.

If I tell you that there is a gentle breeze, you may well cry out: " cliché! cliché!". Well! I am not responsible for the existence of this gentle breeze up above the valleys. (If you ask me, much better than a raging wind which might take us off course, anyway, physics or no physics.) So, drifting down thus we get to pass through the colours that were ordered on the summit...it is our reality, and we created it. I am delighted with my chosen palette. The feelings are serenity and wonder (émerveillement!).

All the animals below us glance up just for a few seconds checking this strange drifting craft, knowing we pose no threat. The harmony of nature is palpable, you can taste it on the wind, you can hear it in the majestic cry of the eagle riding on the thermals alongside us for a bit of fun.

We each come down to earth like a small feather, a tear of gratitude falling into a diamond. The ground welcomes our tipsy frames with a firm security. Fragrance of jasmine and mimosas, or... roses and lavender, or peaches and orange blossom..., or...

I'm going back up again,...comin'?