As I took the plane to Paris this morning I felt one particular emotion: a great relief. Basically a relief of having the time to be out of what I do on my daily basis. But then when I arrived to this huge and stunning castle my only emotion was fear. Fear of not knowing what I was going to find in such a big place with all those rooms, walls, stairs, windows that have been hosting guests for centuries. And then it hit me, that fear is just an alarm bell of having time and a place to turn inward and search all those locked rooms, walls, stairs, windows inside of me and free them in order to speak authentically.
It was an Abbas poem that set me free of that fear:
“I´m the hero of a story,Abbas Kiarostami
which has neither a story nor a hero”
So I will go step by step opening every room and looking at each very closely. I will not expect anything, I am just a listener, by being rather than doing.