Talking to strangers

Do joy and vulnerability go hand in hand?

(versão portuguesa)

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Last year, a couple of months after my diagnosis, when everything was still unfamiliar, I bought a ticket for the Being Gathering festival. I wanted something to look for, a way to challenge myself: in one year I would be well enough to go camping for a week. Spoiler: I was, and I did. 

Being is not a typical festival. There is no advertisement, no loud noisy people giving away glowing plastic tubes or promotional trash. The only thing that is distributed at the gate is a plastic tube with a lid - an ashtray and, lo and behold, there are no cigarette butts on the floor (and I looked!).

It feels like someone took the time to welcome you, but not too much - here the land is part of the ecosystem and its needs are also taken into account. There are crazy and beautiful sculptures and installations; some hidden, that you may find when meandering in the woods, some in plain sight, with lights on, spectacular. And then you have compost toilets.

It rained the first days and the land became soggy and muddy and green and lush. In a landscape of heat and dust, I welcomed the rain, even as I lay awake, alone in my tent, listening to the clapping on the fabric, watching the lightning and counting down to the sound of thunder.

Before the weekenders arrived, it felt like we were staying at a friend's house. People nodded when passing by, sometimes they smiled, almost always looked you in the eye.  If we got to talk, the interaction often ended with a hug. 

It is a place where everything seems possible, where people breathe freedom. The most iconic visual are the people of all ages swimming naked in the lake. You can go with the flow or do your own thing, you can walk around naked or in a ski suit, and no one bats an eye. There is no one telling you what to do or not to do, which is incredible in a festival with about 3000 people. It feels like they expect - and get - civilised behaviour and respect for others and nature.

This photo is from 2017, but it's one of my favourites. This year this sign was no longer there, but there was a smaller one on the bank that said «We are one».

I danced, sang, meditated, swam, discovered new things, shared stories, and was surprised by beauty. I was also surprised by my deliberateness: I was not second guessing myself, and very few times I felt the fear of missing out when I was not seizing all the available activities.

Even in the two times I walked away from a talk because the theme was too mystic for me, I listened with attention, and searched inside for the reason why I was rejecting the words. In both times I decided my time was better spent swimming in the lake, but it stayed with me, and made me think: about my arrogance with ideas that are foreign to me, the fringe stuff; about how those ideas can be seen as symbolic; about what I miss because of my down-to-earth disposition (the same disposition that feels spiritual and idealistic when I’m with the other tribe back home). 

I looked for joy, and found it throughout that week. The laughter and cuddles from my friend’s daughter, the deep conversations, the water, the beauty wherever I looked, the places of silence, the movement of my body when I closed my eyes and danced, the feeling of belonging while singing, the delight of meeting different people, with such diverse lives.

And some of these moments I can share with you: I had my camera for the sole purpose of taking a day to talk to people and take their picture. I did this in 2017; it was so good I decided to do it again, this time more intentionally, and it was one of the highlights of the week. There is something meaningful when you talk to a stranger and let them see you being vulnerable. It is like saying, when you are a child, do you want to play with me? And they did!

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This is Tinne, after the morning meditation. For the rest of the week, we smiled every time we crossed paths.

This is Victoria, who makes illustrations just for herself, while dreaming of writing a children's book.

This is Cláudia and Morgane. They had met that morning and already looked like best friends.

This is Roger. He was sitting with his working dog Isis and we talked for a while. He is a painter, and he plays the flute and makes them. He played a little just for me and Isis. 

This is Julie. She is studying psychology, and she wants to be a mother with ease. We talked about many things, life and death, for a long while. «I needed this», she said, as we hugged for the third time, saying goodbye. I needed it too. 

This is Liliane and Andreia. They met a year ago in Porto, on a yoga  teacher training program, and fell in love.