We started with a beautiful hike through the mountains.

Through pine forests.
Along rocks and flowing water.

And along the way, I felt everything becoming softer.
As if nature was taking over some of the weight I was carrying.

I have never felt that anywhere as strongly as I do here in Spain.

In Calpe.

Maybe it’s the energy of the mountains there.
Who knows.

But it happens every single time.

And canyoning…

That feeling is difficult to explain.

As if everything in your mind suddenly becomes quiet.
As if you can breathe again.

An intense feeling of freedom.
Of being alive.
Of feeling like you can handle the world again.

Even if that sounds a little spiritual.

But canyoning is not just beautiful.

It touches something inside you that is difficult to describe.

It awakens something.

Today, I jumped from rocks 12 metres high.

And I felt so much fear.

A few days ago, during coasteering, I didn’t do it.

But this time, I did.

The fear was real.

The moment you stand at the top and look down.

Your body freezes.

Your mind comes up with a hundred reasons why you should stop.

My legs were shaking, and I had to sit down for a moment.

The longer you stand there, the bigger the doubt becomes.

At some point, there is only one choice:

Jump.

Or go back.

But I knew I wanted to do it.

I had to find everything inside myself to make that jump.

And yet…

I have never felt more alive.

Canyoning is not just about jumping from rocks.

Or walking through breathtakingly beautiful nature.

It is so much more.

A little later, we slid down along a waterfall of almost 20 metres.

I rappelled down a steep cliff.

Cold water flowing through my wetsuit.

My heart pounding in my chest.

But perhaps that is also why it touches you so deeply.

Why it takes your breath away.

Because there, you cannot escape into your thoughts.

You are only focused on:

breathing,
feeling,
trusting,
jumping.

Four years ago, I discovered canyoning for the first time.

During a retreat for female entrepreneurs.

That feeling stayed with me.

I often thought:

One day, I will do this again.

And somewhere, I also thought:

I wish she could have seen this.

This time, everything felt even more intense.

Even more beautiful.

As if every fibre of my body was saying:

Damn… I am alive.

Goosebumps.

Unforgettable.

But nature doesn’t only reveal beauty.

Sometimes it also opens memories.

Longing.

Love.

Everything at once.

And perhaps that was the hardest part.

A few hours later, I was sitting on a terrace by the sea in Calpe.

And suddenly, I felt how tired I actually was.

As if everything came to a standstill for a moment.

I used to think there was something wrong with me when that happened.

That I felt too much.

That I lived too deeply.

But maybe I am simply someone who is deeply touched by life.

By nature.

By movement.

By love.

By loss.

And maybe healing is not only found in adrenaline or big jumps.

But also in learning how to land.

In softness.

In allowing rest when everything becomes quiet.

Maybe that is ultimately even more challenging…

than jumping from a 12-metre-high rock.