The red roofs that are so iconic to Prague stretch for miles into the distance. Intimate and organized into aesthetic collections, they give the impression of coziness, which softens the impact of the absolute grandness of this place. May is the most beautiful time of year in Prague. The sun shines on the landscape in such a way that it looks more like a painting than like real life. The trees are so heavy with blossoms that the hillsides are ablaze with brilliant purples and pinks and whites and yellows. The air is saturated with the fertile perfume of spring. Prague looks like the setting of a saga, a legend come to life. There is an ineffable magic here that I will never be able to convey. I fall in love with this city more and more each time I come here.
I have been so busy since landing here that I have had no time to write a blog until now. Aside from confusing disagreements with the perpetually cross taxi drivers who have no patience for the language barrier, the people of Prague have welcomed me again with open arms and have treated me like a queen. Every person I spend time with in Prague feels like a lost family member to me. Reunions with the circle of people I have come to befriend here bear a sweetness now that is painful in its deliciousness. So many times when I have been looking across the table at the group of people with me on this trip, the thick familiarity of them hits me in a wave and I feel like even though I am living this moment in real time, I am also looking back at this moment with nostalgia from the future. It is the same feeling you would feel if you were 80 years old, looking back at photographs taken years and years ago of precious moments you once had. I am not taking any of these moments for granted. I feel the temporariness of these magic moments and I am overwhelmed by their preciousness. I watch them laugh and pass around their various coffees and teas and for a second, they all seem to fade into slow motion and I think to myself… My life is epic. Epic in its pain and epic in its beauty.
The workshop was a joy. Ironically, the theatre I spoke in hosted the famous ballet called Swan Lake just hours after my workshop ended. I was relieved that despite the cultural differences, the audience seemed to get most of my humor and all of us enjoyed the collective healing and co-creation of it. I have been running into my fans here and there throughout the city. I am in love with the idea that I can be on the other side of the world, creating my videos and books like a nutty professor in my isolated little house and here, there are people whose lives I am positively affecting. It is like we are touching without touching; and this makes me feel the practicality of oneness. By putting myself out there, I have cast energetic filaments out into the world. And now, like a spider web, they have woven connections between myself and people. They have woven connections between other people and other people. And now, there is a strong connectedness between all of us. This connectedness is a little piece of heaven to me.
Today, I was invited by the Czech actor Jaroslav Dusek to go on a private tour of the Prague Castle. Jaroslav shares many, many of my ideals and I found him to be like a lost family member. His warmth and humor met me before he reached me with open arms for our first hug. He was wonderful. The tour guide led the 7 of us in the group with his ring of skeleton keys, behind the ropes and through closed doors, deep into the St. Vitus Cathedral. When you are standing beneath the architecture of the great buildings of Europe, sometimes there are simply… no words. The St. Vitus cathedral is incomprehensible. The vividness and detail of the stained glass windows casts a watercolor light down upon you from hundreds of feet overhead. The detail of every carving and sculpture and ornate detail is simply overwhelming and that does not even take into account the energetic aura of the place. The memories etched in time there. We wove our way down into the underground of the cathedral and back in time through the foundation until we arrived in a tomb full of ornate coffins. I found myself standing with my hand against the sarcophagus of the king of Bohemia, King Rudolf the 2nd who died in 1612. He was a great devotee of the occult. Prague was once the epicenter of alchemy. At one time, Rudolf invited all the greatest alchemist of the world to the royal court so he could learn from them and facilitate grand new discoveries. And there I stood, a teacher of alchemy on the world stage, with the seal of alchemy etched into my left arm. I have arrived at court finally. 403 years after his death. I was not the first one to make the joke as I stood there over his ornate silver coffin. And the joke was only slightly in jest. The reality is that I have finally arrived.
After we left the tomb, we wound our way up a narrow, spiral stone staircase for what seemed like forever, until we were out of breath and disoriented. We were then taken into the bell tower. We stood inside the bell and ‘toned’. At 18 tons, the colossal metal bell, beautifully carved, requires the full strength of 4 people to ring. It would have nearly broken our eardrums to ring at such a close distance. But we laid our ears against the metal and tapped it so we could hear the tone of it. It was beautiful. Its historic inflection carries a heroic narrative that perfectly accented the scene beyond the cathedral walls. Looking down at the people in the square below, they looked as small as ants. The whole of Prague stretched out for miles beyond the castle walls. Exquisite buildings whose copper spires have turned to green with age were cradled by the river, a river which hugs the whole of the old part of the city in its embrace. Sometimes I am absolutely floored by the magnificence of what humans create in an attitude of craftsmanship. He, who is not left in a state of awe while looking out at Prague, cannot be impressed by anything.
After we left the castle, we drank from a natural spring below a monastery on a hillside behind the old part of town. The water in The Czech Republic is some of my favorite water in the world. Water retains memory. It holds the stories of all that has been in the area that it calls home. Like liquid silver, this water vibrates so high that you cannot touch it and remain the same. I drank the water from the spring with my cupped hands today and consumed the memory of this place and the past lives I have spent here with it. And my heart has broken. It has broken in the way that you want a heart to break… Where it shatters as a result of receiving so much of something you love all at once, that there are so many pieces left, you cannot return them to one piece. Instead, you leave some of your heart with the thing that you love. As I drank from the spring, I was broken open by this place and part of my heart will be here forever. And yet at the same time, I feel I have come back to this place to reunite with parts of my heart that I have left here in the previous lives I have lived here. Each footstep I took today, resounded with the sound of nostalgia. A sentimental soreness that is not painful enough to want to escape from but not comfortable enough to allow you to fully breathe.
We ate dandelion flowers right off of the hillside together. The sweet taste of them, warmed by the sun, carried the story of this land. Both its glory and its simplicity. It is a fragile sweetness that settles me I find. Prague means threshold, and that it is. It is a threshold between a real world and a fantasy world. It is a threshold between the earth and the stars. It is the threshold between the seen and the unseen. It is a city of magic. Tomorrow is my last day here and I will be sad to leave it. Despite all my travels, Prague has remained my favorite city in the world. And so, when I leave a piece of myself behind here, I will be glad for it to stay and call softly yet consistently for my return.