The Beauty Of Time in France

 

8337707There is an inlet in the rocky coast east of Marseille, France, where a pool is formed and a peaceful getaway offers itself to the hiker who wills to make a grueling effort. Away from the city, and yet, not so far, i go there to spend the time with no regrets. The sound of silence, voiceless pine trees overhanging the rocks, the crisp and golden Mediterranean sunlight, allow for my head to rest, as though on a weightless pillow, upon my heart. Heart and head united, there is no better, more fulfilled sensation of one’s totality. There is such subtle expansive force in nature it cannot help but magnetize beauty to the finer emotional chords within our human chests, and what layers that may have waxed gross our hearts, melt off as though they never were.

I trust a tree is a doctor here, and the sea, the faculty of medicine before me. Healing devoid of nature is as a body without a soul, and what calls forth not stillness cannot be for long endured. I dip my fragile body in the clear blue water, and when i arise, i feel as though newly born. It is a strange fact that to bathe in the sea can cause a revolution in both body and mind. I lay down upon the rocks and almost forget myself, as though time no longer exists, for then, the time is truly cherished.

The relativity of this moment is as eternal. If ideas are forces, then so much greater a force is the shedding of the brain, for then one is grounded in timeless highlands. For time is directly proportional to the flow of associations we may have in our heads, such that a head that is full of thoughts cannot help being the enemy of time, and the one devoid of these, it’s ally. True beauty, if it is to exist, must annihilate both vanity and egoism, however little a time, to accommodate what is above the two. Its force must be such that it can crush the coarse to welcome the fine, and its presence must be so greatly felt that there can be no room for anything else. Only then can one be certain that true beauty is before us, for there is no alternative when such beauty manifests.

It is as the sunlight at dawn which casts away all the darkness and illumines all of creation. It is where time is most well spent, and yet, where it is most extinct. See for yourselves and confirm it is a truth: time has been spent most wisely when beauty has risen most highly, and there can be little to no “time spent without regrets” without beauty in the cast. Perched upon the crags like a mellow bird, i lay out my body in the “vivifying” sunshine. I have come this far by the sweat of my brow, and not without risks, and yet i have found such marvels that my mind cannot help but focus on the natural feast all about me. “I shall leave here charged with new vision”, i hear myself saying, and when that time to leave arrives, i head back to the city animated with invisible gold.

About the author: James Reed, a travelling writer, with a view to personal and collective growth. Graduate in Social Anthropology and Psychology. Based in the UK.

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2 responses to “The Beauty Of Time in France

  1. Now this is a brilliant read I must say. The thing that I love most about traveling is that every time I undertake a voyage to unknown to seek the communion with nature I also return with this exhilarating feeling “I shall leave here charged with new vision”.

    The most empowering thing about travel is that it opens up the new horizons and bestows us with new perspective.You lose yourself and realize you have rediscovered a better and wiser you.

    And yes I agree when you say that it is only then at those spiritually and emotionally uplifting places that one could behold true beauty manifest before their eyes.

    Once again I cannot but help admit that I loved your writing style.

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