That Mystic Vibe

Here in the foothills of les Pyrénées I am starting to pick up that mystic vibe, it is common amongst all mountain peoples. And I have Gog (North Wales) blood in my veins so it is not too surprising that I have already been assumed to be Catalan a couple of times, these last few days. That vibe lasts, it persists in these little pockets further away from the hustle and bustle. One can sense when one is being “probed” non-verbally. And it is noted when you notice.

In the mountains legends and myths persist like the snow on the mountains in spring. That vibe is a “hippie” magnet. There is a “natural mystic flowing” in the rivers and in the streams. It has been driven into these enclaves far from the noise, the ambitions and all that thinking, all that talking. It touches something if not primordial, then a little ancient. The vibe seeps and that is a good word for it, seeps. It even pervades but the vibe is no longer quite that strong. It is a vibe of stories around the fire on a dark winter’s night. It is a vibe that softly caresses the hackles on the back of the neck.

Something has perhaps drawn me here, some nuance of the dreaming. Too early to say for sure but the “foothills” of the dream are there. We have been looking at houses, in one a full natal chart, in another a book on magik. And today we went to a town selling les sorcières, les bruixes.

There is that mystic vibe…

Hmnn…