Cathar Footsteps

Catalonia’s Cathar Country – Collioure, France

When the first lockdown hit it became increasingly clear that Sète, the touristic fishing town I lived in at the time, wasn’t where I desired to be and a plan was hatched to move on as soon as possible.

Between enforced limits on travel distances and nightly curfews, mask mandates and more lockdowns, and much introspective deliberation, a new adventure profiled itself, the parameters? Somewhere more rural, less populated, yet still within a 30-minute drive to the madness of the coast, a new coastline where scuba diving would be of more interest and the possibility to nip to Spain incredibly convenient.

Sadly, ridiculous restrictions that I refuse to participate in have meant that visits to Spain have been none and even if I met some interesting, wholesome humans who restored much faith in what is possible for our collective future @roulecoco 😉 and the beach is nice enough nearby, scuba diving was best closer to the border, more like an hours drive away.

Most of the rivers here in the Pyrenees-Orientales tend to be completely dried up year-round, as is increasingly the case in many parts of France. Where there is access to any flowing water it’s often dangerously polluted due to industry runoff and commercial priorities. Even if there is still an incredible abundance of natural and cultural heritage to discover, I’ve had less than a year to explore this part of the world before life’s constantly developing variables push me elsewhere.

It’s been a short, somewhat bittersweet experience, with public access to many places denied for those that refuse to submit to unreasonable and incoherent rules. We have witnessed our right to free movement and conscious civil liberty being curtailed by the increasingly draconian measures put in place to herd humanity into a neo-modern, transhumanist oriented totalitarian rule by those currently claiming power.

It’s interesting to reflect not just on my brief time here, but on why I ended up here during this time, of all places. Here, in this often disputed territory that since the dawn of recorded time has been a hotbed of resistance and revolution.

A geographic area that has been apparently settled since the Middle Paleolithic era (according to Wikipedia that’s 300,000 to 30,000 years ago depending on the place, yet Tautavel nearby is where some of the oldest human remains of archaic hominid to be found in Europe were excavated, allegedly dating to approx. 550,000 to 400,000 years ago), this tiny part of our seemingly known planet has seen its fair share of pure life artists, tyrannized rebels and creative freethinkers.

Anchored within that rich timeless energy and shaped by the determined physical presence of the ancestors across the ages, it has been the backdrop for many a situationally imposed or naturally willful renegade to grow from and blossom through. Totally inconsequential yet paradoxically incredibly important manifestations of human experience that have claimed space and time here have shaped my reality, probably more deeply than I currently know, and to a certain extent, the entire fabric of our collective illusion across several timelines.

So many colourful mysteries accidentally, carelessly and purposely forgotten, others hanging on by a thread, charred in the flames of dominating destruction and burning desire or apparent obligation to create some kind of order from incited chaos.

History and her-story itself manipulated by past, present and future forces, perceived at times as good or evil yet always and forever it seems repeating themselves in cycles and patterns that appear intrinsically linked to occult science and esoteric knowledge. Whatever we want to label things as, regardless of what we give importance, or our attention to, every last aspect of it all has led us to what we each experience today.

Personally, I’ve had many ponderings arise from seemingly unrelated events that took place here long before me, notably the passage of the Maures, or Moors, and the extermination of the gnostic christian Cathars, as well as the untold passing of many others, who once walked the paths and inhabited the villages my feet have since found.

My time in this physical location may be drawing to a close and whatever the reason for my short passage, ancestral grid work or otherwise, my intrigue remains open, my opinions and mind forever susceptible to expansion and change, as I suppose is the case for anyone still living outside of mass induced hysteria and subservient, convenient submission that currently, many self-impose.

My curiosity is curiouserererer, renewed I rebelliously remember. My energy is irrevocably intertwined with the unruly strength of these lands, the memory of the minds and the workings of the hands that have tended to them. I am thankful for the supposed inconveniences that push me to continue my stride, my heart full of gratitude for the gift that was this special interlude.

thesortinghouse#cathar #maures #moors #medevial #architecture #ancestral #ancientman #hiddenhistory #genocide #christianity #thechrist #gridwork #herstory #sacredfeminine #divinemasculine #sophia #gnostic #thebeautyofnature #evolutionofconsciousness #energetichealing #lineage #mindbodysoul #cockvid1984 #sanipass #resistance #boycott #languedoc #occitanie #cotevermeille #collioure

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Une publication partagée par Natacha Neveu (@thesortinghouse)

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