bouleversé 1

Four months ago now, I finished walking the Camino Francès in Santiago de Compostela. My post camino blues has slowly but steadily turned into a profoundly happy memory as I am stepping gingerly back onto the Camino of Life, whatever that may be at the moment. I still have to make a start with that epic photo album! Not long after I returned to Luxembourg I met up with a yoga friend, who was raving about a meditation teacher called Joe Dispenza. She had attended one of his workshops, and had experienced similar camaraderies and deep friendships that I spoke about in relation to the Camino, not to mention the life-changing meditations. She used the word 'bouleversée' - bowled over. The name Dispenza rang a bell... Hadn't I heard that name on the Camino? I checked with the Camino mate I walked with for 3 weeks and he asked with indignation if I had not opened the link he had sent me to join him at the Joe Dispenza introduction workshop he was going to attend next week. Oops... no, because the wording in the banner reeked of self-help and I am severely allergic to that. It didn't help that Camino friend returned from the introduction workshop claiming he was a 'divine creator' and had 'changed his energy completely'. Oo-er. But he also said he felt 'bouleversé'. There was that word again, bowled over....  "Come with me to the Advanced Workshop!", Camino friend said. And my yoga friend assured me "It has changed my life, you go!". And something else was pulling, something deeper, I could not put my finger on it. I was getting curious. Did I want to be bowled over? I read some reviews of the man and his work, which were difficult to find. I think he has a team that scours the internet day and night, but I found some damning rants against Dispenza, calling him a pseudo-scientist and worse. Finally I decided I needed to see this for myself, and to go in as a very critical participating observer. "Go in without expectations", said my yoga friend. "Yay, we are going to be supernatural geniuses!", chirped Camino friend. 
I arrived in Barcelona, on a wintry, bright, Sunday afternoon and found that most of the passengers on the airport shuttle bus to Portaventura in Salou were workshop delegates. The atmosphere was buoyant, everybody was chatting, the air full of anticipation, and I met a few people from my 'team', Cereza. Salou was at its loveliest, deserted by the hordes of Dutch tourists that frequent this little town in Summer, and on Monday morning I was crying with happiness, walking onto the beach. Note to self: I love the Mediterranean, must come and live here.  TO BE CONTINUED....

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