Magical realism
A few years ago, I was on a mountaintop in the Pyrenees, alone with my tent, no food except an apple and a few nuts, and nine bottles of water. I was there to fast for four nights and five days, to go inward on a kind of vision quest, and let go of all the emotional upset I was carrying inside. God knows, I was carrying a lot so I knew I’d be lucky if I could sort myself out in that time, but I also knew that it is harder to access the deeper current of your emotions when you’re surrounded by distractions. I was eager to peel away the layers and reconnect with myself in the raw, in the wild.
A Basque shaman, with whom I’d spent several days preparing for this time,
