Transforming the Shock

The dark days continue to rule the land. Everywhere, the deep trauma, which burdens the whole nation, can be felt.
It lurks like a heavy shadow in every corner, it is chiseled into every face like a grey veil.

I, too, have fallen down and can not get up any more. Every attempt is crushed, it feels as if a slab of concrete lies on me, a volley of bullets hits my heart. It is a mixture of guild "How can I continue when this has happened, when THEY can not continue any more?" and an all-encompassing feeling of futility.

Italy and Aldo Moro seem to be as far away as never before.
For the first time since I decided to make this pilgrimage a year ago, I lack motivation. All the blossoming dreams of majestic mountains, crystal-clear bays, cicadas and stars fade into an unreal, departing hallucination of the past.

Training has become nothing but a duty. After all, the horse needs to be moved.
I set out, but listlessly. I get angry about every mistake the animal makes. Once again Heidi balks, runs away, for no apparent reason. I can hold her back, but I swear at her. I mutter "stupid beast" into the cold air of meaninglessness.

Down in the forest, the path leads along the brook "Ruisseau des Cailloux". I've wanted to walk it for ages. But the melting snow has transformed the brook into a torrential river, which has flooded its surroundings in many places. And a tree lies across the trail. At first sight, it seems impassable.
To quote Theo Kojak: "Delightful!"
I know there will be many of this kind of situations on the road.

And now I am even more fed up with everything.

I turn the horse around. I want to go home, park the horse in the paddock and crash down on the sofa.

Then I realise: if I turn around now, it will be for good. I won't come back tomorrow to see whether the path might be passable then.
And that would be the end of Aldo, the stars and the cicada.



Thus, I climb down the steep, muddy, slippery hillside. Heidi, who has become nervous due to all this to and fro, begins to move as well. Far too fast, I hold her back. She must learn to follow me slowly on such dangerous paths, keeping her distance.
Learn?
This means that I am in the middle of the training again.
We fight our way across the slippery stones at the waterside, circumvent the tree by climbing up again into the forest, and down again.
We master the difficult spot. For a moment, the light falls into the forest and makes the wild water sparkle. It seems to carry a greeting from far-away Apulia.