Filling The Soul Cup

Dawn over the Wetterhorn in the Bernese Oberland on an early jaunt up the West flank of the Eiger.

I often write my blog posts retrospectively, taking time to understand fully the message I want to send and that I am ready to send it. This time is different. Two weeks post spinal decompression surgery (nowhere near as grim as it sounds and in the grand scheme of things very run of the mill) I find myself in quite a dark place. Having stopped taking my antidepressants a few months ago, I tend to feel everything more fully, the edges being a little softer than they were before. This is OK for the most part as the last two years have been predominantly about slowing down and learning to come in from the edges by myself.

I think the prospect of a slow recovery and one which has large restrictions on the physical load I can carry means that I am having to occupy my time with walks and little else. This is good and definitely a great recovery tool but I am left with a serious amount of FOMO due to all the things I can’t do - but that’s for another time.

A tool/analogy I have come to find immensely useful these last couple of years is one of a “Soul Cup’. The idea being that whenever possible, you add to this cup with experiences that are etched into your mind. Things that bring you unbridled joy, experiences where you find yourself truly in the moment. For me, this could be a beautiful base jump exit, flying from a Lakeland or alpine mountain at sunrise, watching a sunrise or sunset in the mountains or a day spent with friends playing, laughing and living as fully as we can. I don’t set off knowing that these days will become so deeply ingrained in my long-term search for happiness when I set out and there are many failures along the way. I think the important message is to strive to keep the cup topped up as often as possible. In doing this you eventually fill the cup with the sights, sounds, smells and feelings that made those days so memorable.

Dawn from Lac des Cheserys above Chamonix. An early morning walk up from town with a good friend had us in place to watch sunrise with few others around. We had coffee at the refuge, wandered back out of the reserve before I flew down, walked to the Patisserie and got pastries for breakfast for when Clara arrived back in town. A morning to remember.

A screen grab from my last flight before surgery. Marginal conditions but beautiful light and although I had to work for it, hence the facial expression, it was ultimately a great experience to go in the cup.

A sunset hike and fly from Blencathra. My second hike and fly of the day and this was just smiles from top to bottom with views for miles of sun kissed, snow capped Lake District tops.

Now faced, as I am, with a long recovery I can close my eyes on those dark days and, with a bit of practice, I can take myself to the lakes at dawn, watching the colours change in the sky, warming my cold fingers as they press the shutter to capture the moment on my camera. Watching the reflections in the lakes change and the colours of the landscape take on a yellowy/orange hue as the sun’s warmth starts to work it’s magic. I can feel the fabric of my canopy as I lay it out and check my lines. Feeling the breeze on my face and searching for a good launch, watching the distant inversion break up and slowly begin to track up the valleys as the air warms and rises. A final check that my harness is connected correctly and my lines are tangle free, a couple of pulls and the canopy is inflated. Now wait, feel the breeze, pull and it’s up, control, turn and face the sunlit horizon and run. One step, two steps, three, leaning forward. I’m lifted, driving forwards, flying. Sitting back in my harness, finding the speed bar and then I’m there, in the sky above the mountains just after sunrise. The world below is beginning to wake but for now it’s just me and all beauty I can cram into my eyes, mist rushing beneath my feet and the sun reflecting off the distant lakes. It makes me work, the breeze is strong, will I make my main landing or do I need to use an alternative. Nearly out of the valley, my alternative long since past, committed to my main landing and with plenty of height, relax again, look around, take some photographs, hold on to the the views of the early morning mist on the lake and then focus again, a few fun turns and a nice long wet grassy landing. Gently touching down and letting my wing fall behind me, I turn, take a huge breath, look back up the valley, smell the early morning dew, smile the smile of The Cheshire Cat and feel the pride of knowing I did that on my own and its mine alone to indulge in. Slowly I pack a wet canopy and bid good morning to some camper van dwellers nearby who are just getting up.

This is my place and I’m sure there’s some artistic license in there, there’s an amalgamation of different experiences through the years but when I’m there, it’s real and it feels good. Whilst I’m there, I’m untouchable, I’m not missing out and as I come back to my reality, I have all the smiles and endorphins I need to get through the next stretch.

I decided to write this, now, whilst I’m still in it as I know there are a few other people out there, hurting right now or struggling for whatever reason. Maybe its of some use. It’s your cup to fill with the things that speak to your heart, so fill it when you can and drink from it and nourish your soul when you need.