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5 weeks, one beach part 3/4: Can I trust my pure being and summoning dolphins without thinking about them? (December 2022)

Back in Bulgaria, I had the feeling that analyzing and trying to deeply understand the things that were going on in my mind would no longer be my way. The funny thing is, that about six years ago, I had felt something similar but different. Back then, I had been thinking a lot about things that had been bothering me. It had been like a whirlwind of analytical thoughts, dissatisfaction, and sometimes desperation.

At one point, I realized that there was no need for the strong dissatisfaction and desperation I had been feeling. I understood that I could change my perspective on the things that had been bothering me. This realization came to me as I was reading the book “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind” by Yuval Noah Harari. In the book, he describes many interesting concepts, but the one that resonated with me the most was his explanation of how humans believe in a lot of things that we just made up, such as money, countries, and companies. These things don’t actually exist, yet most of us believe in them so strongly that they shape and dictate much of our lives. Furthermore, Harari describes how subjective, dynamic, and elusive the human perception of reality can be. I began to think that if I was already believing in so many things that were not real and these beliefs were having such a big impact on me, and if my perception of reality was not solid but could be changed, then I could create new beliefs and change my perspective in a way that would make me feel happier. This had been the starting point for a long process of change. Dissatisfaction and desperation became less and less important. I think that at this point, I had started to actively change my perspective on things by altering my thinking about them. It was a lot of thinking, but it felt good.

Around the same time, I had begun to meditate and study various literature on happiness, mindfulness, Buddhism, philosophy, and psychology. At that time, my primary motivation was to understand how the self within me worked. In retrospect, I realize that I had been approaching this desire on an intellectual level. I had believed that nearly everything could be explained in this way. However, over time, this perspective had begun to shift. My intellectual understanding became more and more supplemented by a deeper level of feelings and beliefs. Despite this, I still had changed the way I saw things by analyzing, understanding, and then altering my perspective.

At some point during my journey, which had begun about a year ago, I had started to feel that analyzing and understanding felt clunky and unnatural. I had realized that I didn’t need to understand everything. However, I was still very much in my thoughts. Then, back in Bulgaria, these active, analytical, and transformative thoughts started to become less important. I feel that the intense time I had spent with Artha, our love, mutual triggering and everything else, had the effect of a catalyst.

I felt that my perspective on my thoughts and the concepts they were following had changed. I got the impression that the relationship between feelings, beliefs, thinking and arising thoughts might be different than what I had believed. From that point on, I felt more open towards myself and started to be more honest with everything that came up inside of me. I felt a different kind of authenticity and naturalness, something I hadn’t experienced before. The feeling reminded me of sayings like “there are no wrong feelings.” I felt liberated from certain boundaries that I had applied to myself in order to be authentic, mindful and spiritual. After Istanbul, I found myself relying on analytical thinking again at times, but mostly I felt like I was starting to welcome all aspects of myself and observe the parts that irritated me. So, I guess that was more observing, welcoming, and letting go than thinking, analyzing, and actively transforming.

At one point on that beach in Turkey, I got the strong impression that I might be able to fully trust what felt like my pure being. By “pure being,” I mean “me” without the arising and commenting thoughts in my mind. In (Zen) Buddhism, there are the terms “small mind” and “big mind.” I read most about them in “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind” by Shunryu Suzuki. It’s a deep topic, but I guess for now, it’s enough to say that the big mind seems to perceive everything as it is, while the small mind (as a part of the big mind) tends to add delusions in the form of stories to everything one perceives. So, with a calm small mind and fewer delusions, one might suffer less in life because one would judge life less in a dualistic way of good and bad. I felt that what I felt like my being was pretty well described as the big mind, and my thoughts as the small mind. I felt like that I might be able to trust my being completely at some point, and I felt like the journey there had already begun.

I continued to attend the Dharma talks of the Bright Way Zen community via Zoom, and I was reading the book “The Unborn – The Life and Teachings of Zen Master Bankei” translated by Norman Waddell. It felt like it came at just the right time and I connected strongly with it. From my understanding, Bankei’s teachings mostly revolve around the belief that one can fully trust in their pure being and that is all that is necessary to not suffer in life because that being will take care of everything that needs to be taken care of. He refers to this being as “the unborn Buddha mind.” My brief descriptions of the “big mind” and “small mind” and this one about the “unborn Buddha mind” are by no means adequate descriptions of the concepts that Suzuki and Bankei are offering, but I think it’s enough for this post. Reading that book and its constant repetition of trusting my being felt relieving, confirming, and very healthy for me. It felt like my belief in my pure being kept growing.

One day, while sitting in Rosinante, I looked at the switch for my charging booster. I had always wanted to drill a hole in the interior of Rosinante to properly install the switch, but I never got around to it because I couldn’t decide on the best way to do it. But on that day, I just did it. Afterwards, I fixed an electrical connection of one of the batteries that I had been meaning to fix for months, but didn’t know how. I also improved the routing of the cable from my power converter through the cabin. These tasks that I had been putting off for so long, ended up taking only a couple of minutes to complete. And after these, I found myself tackling a number of other things that seemed to just appear. I simply did what was next and didn’t give much thought to them. It felt like a chain of flow. I experienced this feeling on several days while I was on that beach.

On another day, I hiked to a small waterfall and meditated at a peaceful creek. On that day, there were even fewer distracting thoughts in my mind, and I felt easy, bright, and light. When I returned to my camper and was reading on the beach, I felt the urge to look out at the sea. I noticed a bird swimming on the waves in the distance and thought it was astonishing that my human visual system could see the bird so clearly from such a distance. I wondered if I could see dolphins, and as if on cue, two dolphin fins appeared not far from the bird. The bodies of the two dolphins partly emerged from the water, one bigger than the other. They dove, reemerged, and disappeared. I laughed wholeheartedly.

5 weeks, one beach part 1/4: I’d like to be a tea monk, brothers, Babas and two guns

The places I had found on the Marmaris peninsula were great, but the next beach I found was truly incredible. After reaching the end of the peninsula, I drove east and checked out several places along the way. I passed through mountains, down into coves, up mountains again, down to the next cove, and along the coastline, but none of these places felt like my new home. After a couple of hours of driving, I grew tired. I headed to the next potential home spot, and the path led me through a forest on a slightly off-road forest road. Only a few kilometers away from my destination, I had no internet connection, which was a concern because at that point I desperately wanted to continue my music production courses and stay in touch with friends. But as soon as I reached the beach, I knew immediately that this would be my home for a long time. It was amazing! Located deep in nature at the other end of the forest, without any signs of human development, and the internet connection was perfect.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time at this beach and spent it doing many things I enjoyed: making music, playing the cajon, bo staff training, hiking, writing, reading, meditating, yoga, communicating with friends online, and having tea and nuts with the people who occasionally visited this magnificent beach.

Making tea and sharing nuts, thoughts, and stories was one of my favorite things to do. During my time at that beach, I was reading the books “A Psalm For The Wild-Built” and “A Prayer For The Crown-Shy” by Becky Chambers. I loved these books (like maybe all of her books). These books feature a monk who travels around in a tea wagon. In every settlement the monk encounters, he builds a tea place and people come to have tea that he mixes individually for them based on their emotional state. If they like, they may tell him about their lives and the things that are bothering them. The monk would listen to them wholeheartedly and be there for them, but he wouldn’t give much advice. I felt like that was exactly what I would like to do. Later that day, when I came back to the beach from a hike, I heard loud emotional Turkish music. There was a Turkish guy drinking beer and listening to that music. I waved and smiled, he waved me over, gave me a beer, and told me for hours about the trouble he had with his family. All via Google Translate. Although it was beer instead of tea, for that time, I felt like a tea monk, and it felt good.

One day, I hiked along the beautiful single trail that led in both directions along the coast. After an hour, I reached the next big cove. In that one, there were two small buildings and I was curious if anyone lived there. Down at the beach, I met Masoud and we had a great connection from the start. He had come from Iran, was traveling and hiking, and had attended the Rainbow gathering, an event I had also considered attending, but I had been in Bulgaria at the time of the gathering. Now he was living with a friend in a minimalistic hut of a Turkish guy at that beach and was enjoying life. In the hut, there was a poster of Don Quixote and his horse, Rosinate, which I found to be quite funny. We had a great time talking about everything, eating, and making music. He had been playing the setar since he was a little boy, and his playing was beautiful. I recorded some of it. Maybe I can put the recordings into an organic house song at some point. We also talked about how we could stay longer in Turkey than the 90 days we were allowed to. I had researched and had found that for a longer stay, one would need a Turkish address.

On another day, I met his friend Ali and we connected instantly as well. Every week, I would get new supplies from Datca, the next town, and sometimes I brought some things for my Iranian brothers as well. We had a lot of fun, deep conversations and one time when the Turkish owner of the hut was around, we helped collect olives. I love my Iranian brothers, and I hope to meet them again somewhere in the future. Perhaps in Iran at some point.

On another day, a group of about twenty hikers arrived at my home beach. I was relaxing and reading on the beach when one of them approached me and Rosinante. It turned out that he was German and Turkish and had recently moved to Datca, the nearest town to the beach. We talked about the beauty of Turkey and the beach where we were. I told him that I really enjoyed Turkey and would love to stay longer than the ninety days that I am allowed to. Without hesitation, he offered that I might use his address for my temporary residency (aka Ikamet) application. We went to his hiking group and talked to some other guys who were experienced with the process of obtaining a temporary residency in Turkey. They gave us a contact to another woman who was helping foreigners with the process of applying for an Ikamet. With the guys from the hiking group, we had a beautiful conversation about traveling, life, reality, Zen, yoga, and love.

When I went to Datca to get some supplies, I met with Vedat and the super friendly and helpful woman who was helping people to get an Ikamet. More on that topic in another post.

Vedat and I met every week in Datca and had a wonderful time together. We talked about everything, relaxed, had walks around Datca, and always had lunch at Baba Restaurant (find Baba Lokantası on Google Maps). I loved Baba! The food there was so authentic and delicious. Although I very rarely eat meat, I had Köfte! And the prices were incredibly cheap. For a big lunch for two people including deserts and unlimited bread and water we paid about six Euros. And visiting Baba reminded me of my favorite lunch restaurant back in Hamburg: Kardelen (find it on Google Maps)! I really enjoyed the time with Vedat, and after a few weeks, it felt a bit like home to come to Datca. When walking around in Datca, I also met other people that I had gotten to know on my home beach, and that made me feel connected to this place as well.

One evening, after sunset, I saw two dark objects swimming in the ocean, and after some time, the objects made it to the beach. They were two divers who had been hunting for fish. While having some tea and nuts together, we suddenly noticed a swordfish swimming not far away from the beach in the strong light of the moon. It was a magical sight, like a creature from a fairy tale. Although the divers had been in the water for already five hours, they headed back again for some night hunting.

On several occasions, I was visited by the forest department and military police. It was an interesting experience. I had a conversation with the forest department about the beach and the plans that some investors had for it. They wanted to build a hotel complex on it. The guys from the forest department were not happy about that and were trying to prevent these plans from happening.

The military police were searching for illegal immigrants that might have come via the surrounding Greek islands to Turkey. They always asked me if I had seen anyone. I had not, but I was thinking about what I would tell them if I had. When I told the captain of the police about the investor’s plans for the beach, he seemed not to be amused: he drew his gun, pointed at the ocean, and pretended to shoot.

To be continued…

Tea and nuts for everyone, joining a Sangha, military police, dinosaurs and music (November 2022)

Since I began traveling along the Mediterranean coast in Turkey, I’ve noticed that much of the coast is densely populated with cities, roads, and hotels. It has not been as easy to find secluded natural spots, as it is, for example, in Greece.

The satellite photos on Google Maps and Park4Night led me to believe that the Marmaris peninsula would be a beautiful spot to camp, and it did not disappoint. Upon arriving, I stumbled upon a place I dubbed “dinosaur land” due to the dense, prehistoric-looking forest. The area offered a great combination of dirt roads and hiking trails, as well as an abundance of wild thyme to pick. It was an amazing place.

Rosinante and I were the only campers there, but I had the opportunity to meet a lot of wonderful people. Being inspired by the Turkish hospitality, I began offering tea to anyone who passed by. Most people seemed to enjoy it and when they accepted the tea, I also offered them nuts and dried fruits. It was a simple yet beautiful way to connect with others. I had a lot of great and interesting conversations. With two Turkish guys I talked a lot about Turkey and music. One of them even taught me a finger roll technique and a new, easy oriental beat to play on my cajon.

There were many beautiful encounters in that “dinosaur land”, but one stood out as particularly special. One day, an older man came to the place where I was camping. He stopped his car, got out and sat down on a large stone a few meters away from Rosinante and me. I greeted him and he smiled back. I had learned that some older people don’t like or understand how to use Google Translate, so I simply made some tea and offered it to him along with some nuts and dried fruits. He smiled, touched his chest with one hand, and seemed to enjoy his tea. I don’t know if he was unable to speak, but he didn’t say a single word. He communicated through gestures, and I did the same. I sat down at a respectful distance, and we shared some quiet but equally beautiful moments together.

Months ago, while I was in Greece, I began listening to episodes of The Zen Studies Podcast. I recall that I had felt a pull towards Zen a couple of times in my life before, but I never delved deeper into it. However, while in Greece, that changed and I became increasingly interested in Zen practices such as meditation and study. I had been considering joining a Sangha (a group of Zen practitioners) for some time, and I began attending the meetings of Bright Way Zen. The meetings were beautiful, very honest, and authentic, so I continued to attend the Sunday meetings, which included meditation, a socializing round, and a Dharma talk, during which the Zen teacher would discuss a topic which would then be discussed in the group. Although I felt like my identification with Zen increased in a way, I enjoyed these inspiring meetings.

After some days in the “dinosaur land”, the military police came by and informed me that it was not allowed to camp in that spot in the forest. They were very friendly but declined my offer of tea and I did not argue with them. I had been living in my car for more than three years already, and this was the second time I was moved by the authorities.

I moved on towards the end of the peninsula and found some truly beautiful spots to stay, with wonderful hikes and interesting ancient sites to enjoy. My music production became increasingly intense, and I experienced a number of breakthroughs in my learning. Sometimes I spent twelve hours a day making music. First I kept loving it, but then it started to change.