How do we make sense of paradoxes? Namibia - Part 2

What is mindful travel? What does it entail? How can we travel to enrich our worlds without depleting natural resources and strip a place of its authenticity and indigenous values in the process? And maybe the biggest question of them all, which extends far beyond travelling: how do we learn to hold paradoxes in a way that would enable us to take sustainable action instead of allowing it to throw us into full on coping mechanisms, be it freeze, flight or fight?

Namibia was probably the richest and most insightful of our travelling experiences. We are in awe of so many beautiful, tear provoking moments we had the privilege to witness. It’s also a place that taught us, the hard way, that it’s okay and fully human to hold space for grief and wonder at the same time.

I am not going to bore you (or myself) with chronological facts (message me if you need that, though) as I prefer to follow the flow of my feelings towards an experience, so here’s a painterly, non-chronological picture of Namibia through our eyes, with a focus on the less obvious and the spoken of.

Of course there have been so many in betweens (places and feelings), yet the main areas we’ve explored and spent most time in are Sossusvlei, the dunes at Swakopmund, Spitzkoppe and Etosha National Park. I am not much to be trusted with what my favourite place was (I am a highly enthusiastic being whose usual favourite thing is always the last one she’s experienced, plus everything in Namibia is too special to be cast in a box), yet for the sake of humans obsessing over certainties and having all the information laid out in front of them (I encourage you to change the narrative and allow yourself to discover places as you go), I will declare Spitzkoppe to be the cherry on top. The fact that it’s also the least touristy, might have, as usual, contributed to this choice. The whole landscape is as impressive and extraterrestrial as the one we’ve seen in Joshua Tree (another close-to-heart spot). The bald granite peaks stand out dramatically from the flat surrounding plains. The giant boulders, of various sizes, shapes and textures, reinforced that sense I’ve been experiencing very intensely in the past years, that I am part of something bigger and that nature is my one and only permanent home.

I’m in awe of Mother Nature’s creative skills. Everything looks intentional, yet in many ways it isn't, it's just generations of wisdom, of adapting and thriving in any environment. At different moments in the day, in different lightning, the landscape changes. The sunset light, in particular, is the most inviting. It lures you in to play a part in the story. The dance between shadows and light is fascinating and revealing of corners you would otherwise not grasp in the bright light of the day, something that is reflected in the human reign as well — our shadows have this tremendous capacity to uncover our best light. The slightly challenging climbing of the giant boulders is energising and exciting. It’s that childlike energy that most of us adults have lost on the way or don’t make the space to access more of it. You never know what worlds you’ll discover beyond a boulder, and that always makes it worth exploring — the unknown that we came to fear so ardently in a society deprived of playfulness and experimentation.