During the third and last phase of the project —the tunnel— and before seeing the greenish yellow-blue-orange light, let us admit that Dora had prepared a detailed plan to get out of the tunnel through an emergency exit. There was already too much humidity in the air and inminent danger of everything falling apart.
The mentioned how-to-get-out-of-the-pyramid plan had already the approval from the supervisory board members of my life —two votes against and one vote in favor (mine)—, so I was determined to get the plan executed. But before escaping the tunnel, something pushed me towards a person that I admire personally and professionally, I guess looking for his comforting final OK.
After eighteen years working for the same company, the life of this “espaniolito” was somehow —and without somehow as well— completely connected to that company. Most of the friends and people orbiting around in the daily life belonged to the same galaxy, so when suddenly one decided to get out of that star system and to start searching for a new one, after an initial effervescence produced I guess by the cosmic powder, there were two main feelings that started flooding my wanna-be-sculptured body: loneliness and loss.
Being lost was not worrying at all —remember the name of this blog— but the feeling of being alone, and somehow useless, was something that required an extra processing.
Do you guys remember that plane that suddenly landed in my dearest city of residence in Germany after six weeks traveling freely like a bird around the world? That day I was shocked. There I was on the street with my nice black executive bag-pack —description added to avoid any trip misconception from my dear readers—, my trolley, my tennis racket and my tanned-skin face thinking: “I would right away take another plane no matter which destination in the world…”
However, instead of going back to the airport and take that no-matter-which-destination plane, I decided to start walking slowly towards my nice apartment and to enjoy the pleasant weather. Nobody was waiting for me at home, nor had I anything to do the day after, so there was no rush… The sun was starting to set and, allied with the sky, had orchestrated a really beautiful welcome-back-home skyline view that automatically was saved by my blessed brownish-green eyes —whatever— and by my mobile.
That evening, I ended up drinking wine at the river with a couple of friends —blond and brunette—, as if there would be no tomorrow. But there was indeed a tomorrow, and an after tomorrow, and many more days after that after tomorrow… And one of those days, I woke up and realized that the world kept moving, everyone was working and… I was not.
My dearest surreal readers, I don’t feel like writing the emotional orgy that I have gone through during these last months. Allow me just to write that the process has been tougher than initially thought —and I don’t mean professionally— but definitely one of the best experiences in my whole life. I can’t even talk or write from a clear perspective, because the perspective is not clear yet, but at least some kind of perspective-thing is sort of starting being painted.
That personally and professionally admired person never gave me the comforting OK to the emergency exit that I was looking for. On the contrary, he confronted me with my reality in a very direct way and at the same time offered me some pragmatic help.
Everything can change in life in one-second and, believe me, something changed inside the tunnel during that insignificant period of time when I finally decided to accept his help. Yes, I ate my proudness with rosemary roasted potatoes in the oven with a touch of Spanish extra virgin olive oil, and I just decided to reactivate my walk forward through the tunnel with a kind of never-give-up smile; smile without grand canyons but smile after all…
The original message, which had been meditated all day long, suddenly disappeared from my mobile and a new message was sent instead:
“Thanks, I will be there tomorrow morning”.