My Soul Trip & Alfredo the Fox by Leigh Martin
Acupuncturist – https://www.leighmartin.co.uk/
Alfredo the Fox is waiting for me as I step through the golden door. I am entering a mountain range, breathtakingly beautiful yet brutal. Steep rock formations rise up into the heavens, towering above. Two birds, predators, circle in the air calling to each other. It is a bright warm day and there’s a cooling breeze. The terrain is awash with all kinds of heather and bracken, releasing tiny flowers of many colours, creating an undulating feeling thanks to the breeze.
Alfredo looks a little impatient, we have someplace to go,I feel him say.
There is a path curling away in front of us. Alfredo turns to walk down it and I follow. We walk slowly together for about half an hour, giving me time to take in the rugged vision as it unravels in front of me. The mountains are stunning in their presence and harsh in their action of being, having withheld many years of existing and maintaining supremacy. I am aware they could consume a person whole and that danger lies here, but today I am safe. I am on a special trip!
I ask Alfredo where he is taking me, but he does not speak again. A fox of few words; he is my kinda guy. After a short time, I notice the temperature drop a little and as we turn a bend there it is. A great expanse of shimmer and light – a huge lake. Alfredo makes his way down to the water’s edge with ease, lucky nimble fox he is on his four legs. I scramble down on my two.
The water is like glass, completely still bar the odd ripple now and again, probably a fish taking air. The mountains above reflect their mirror image into the water upside down: a striking illusion. A reflection of what is real, into what is not real and back again, like two mirrors facing each other. Where does one start and the other end I wonder? I step closer to this image and see myself. Alfredo stands beside me and we both look at our other selves; we stare into a reflection of our reflection. There is such peace here, yet the water is screaming for me to enter. Its demand is almost deafening in the silence. I do not need to consider this for long, as swimming is one of my favourite things. I eagerly take off all my clothes, leaving them on a rock. As I do so I find a pair of goggles in a pocket – it’s so obvious I was meant to be here.
The air is fresh on my bare skin. I gingerly step forwards placing my toes, feet then ankles into the water. It is icy cold but I do not care. I look over my shoulder to see Alfredo watching.
“Are you coming?” I ask.
He sits on the edge and gives his head a tiny shake signifying, No.
The water is deep almost straight away. I take a few slow long breaths in anticipation, count myself to three and that’s it. I’m in! Completely submerged and as I swim back up to the surface, the cold hits and it’s hard to breathe. I am gasping for air and breath, but at the same time adrenaline rushes through my body. I feel a rush of blood, a pop and crackle in my head, then tingling all over. What danger and what sweet joy. I swish around as fast as I can in the water, acclimatising myself to this cold. My body is forced to adjust to this unexpected event, following its primal instinct to survive. My soul soars with the beauty of it, the buzz of it, the sheer wildness of this moment. I start to swim. At first it’s a challenge, but then I start to feel as if I am gliding through the water; swimming when done right is pure connection, movement connecting to environment. I am at one with the water, consumed by its crystal clearness. The joy of moving freely, weightless, limitless. The lake is surrounded by mountains, a tough looming backdrop to this cold, watery domain. Alfredo sits patiently at the water’s edge and watches me.
I call out to him and ask, “Why am I here Alfredo?”
I feel him say, do not ask me a question you know the answer to already. Can’t you feel it?
And the answer is of course, YES I CAN!