As a teenager, I had a dream. I wanted to become a professional rugby player at Stade Toulousain. The conviction of having to be the best, to be part of the elite, in order to deserve the recognition of any parental figure, was encouraged by an elitist and performance-based educational system.
One day, I went through the gates of what I considered to be my Everest. I left everything to realize my dream - studies, friends, families - and rub shoulders with the greatest rugby. Playing with the extremes, always in search of more, at the limit of the rupture: that was it, the high level. A constant imbalance. Or rather an imbalanced balance, such as a top that seems suspended in time once adroitly launched. A top that did not have the right to stop turning, at the risk of being replaced by another.
Subsequently, I became a professional coach and I realized that the industrial world was even more marked by this unnatural trend of performance and constant production. Our society is addicted to emotional intensity, frightened by its own lack and existential emptiness. The human being is forced to level his natural rhythm, to repress his ups and downs, at the risk of being categorized, judged, downgraded. The effort I had to provide not to explode in mid-flight cost me considerable energy to stay "up to". I end up exhausting myself, losing my faith in the beauty of the human being and my joy of living.
The meditation and holotropic breathing that I discovered during this period were lifelines. I felt that something in me was screaming for help. Something needed to die, an idea, a vision of the world, that we had been trying to sell for far too long.
"The hardest part is not the climb, it's the descent!" I would have done well to remember this mountain saying, starting to live a quest quision in Quebec and an initiatory journey in the mountains of Mexico. To awaken to the beauty of the world, to the mystery of my existence, it was not so hard. Leaving my community to question my reason for life asked me courage, certainly, but we should talk more about the way back.
"Laundry after awakening", as Jack Kornfield describes it so well. Return to base camp after reaching the summit. This is where the real work begins. Because that's when I realized that I was not the same anymore. The life I led before no longer suited me and some friendly and family relations could lock me up. Today's society, which too often views nature and the human being as mere resources to exploit, has become less and less meaningful to me.
Returning from my trip, I felt like a newborn baby, sensitive and fragile, immersed in a hostile environment and dried up by years of fighting. I needed a glimmer of hope, a sign of destiny that another life was possible.
The life philosophy of Sepp Holzer, forerunner in permaculture and the values of Pierre Rabhi's agro-ecology, resuscitated my passion. Simply because they refuse the incessant fight against nature, against our nature. And go against this desire of our ego to dominate and master the mystery of life. They accept that a plant, like any living thing, any idea or artistic creation needs a certain time to be born, grow and bear fruit. They refuse the constant pressure to be productive at all times and teach us how to take care of ourselves and others so that a seed becomes a tree able to endure the elements without breaking at the first gust of wind.
Life has given me the chance to see beyond borders. Impossible to go back, impossible to go back to sleep, even if at times, I would like to find my naivety childish, a few moments of unconsciousness.
Accept the natural rhythm of life, be patient and listen to my deep truth in order to transform my daily life, accompany and inspire courageous leaders who hope to get out of the prefabricated patterns of our consumer society, that's what I'm aspiring today.
As Sepp Holzer would say, "Let's share abundance with all living things, let's trust, let's respect Nature and heaven will be on earth".