The phoenix

The Phoenix

On Saturday, August 11, 2018 I reach Heliopolis. Do you remember the story of the Phoenix? Every five hundred years, this legendary bird flies from deep in Arabia to Heliopolis where it burns to ashes at the Temple of Atum before regenerating from the ashes into a new life, ready to start all over again.

My first 500 years is up and I am about to go through this cathartic crashing and burning, only to emerge on the other side in a new life. Early Sunday morning I land in Entebbe, in Uganda, the Pearl of Africa and the adventure begins. 

Africa is where all our stories start. To the best of our knowledge (imperfect as it is) a small group of bipeds left the Rift Valley at the beginning of human history and peopled the entire world, giving rise to cultures as varied as Inuit and Indian, South Pacific Island and Aborigine, Equatorial and Arctic.  The diversity dazzles and sparkles through time. We speak the gamut of languages and design our own individual journeys from birth to death. Our stories are endlessly fascinating. There is no end.

My own journey has been chequered of late, what with disease, divorce and dislocation but I have a growing sense of calm and serenity as I approach Heliopolis. The road has been very rough in places, untended and unloved,  but now it is time to enjoy the open vistas and  the delight of breath. I am excited about this new journey. Planet Earth is my home and I love it, the seasons,  my family and friends and the freedom to roam and explore at will,  to make decisions and plans, to abandon them if they are futile, to delve in where there are opportunities. 

And so, until soon, on the other side of the equator, in the centre of Africa, the Heart of Darkness or the Temple of Light, take your choice. A new story starts.