I was on a Feng Shui project in East Germany last week, with temperatures up to 38 degrees. It was for a hotel, and was a very interesting job. It was also my first trip to East Germany. I loved the fields of sunflowers, tree-lined roads and cobbled roads – though they must be irritating if you're on a bike (apparantly Northampton used to have the largest cobbled market square in Europe, how strange that they got rid of it). I stayed in an immaculately clean, tidy and clutter-free house with shutters and window boxes. The garden was wonderful: partly wild, with some areas of grass mown and linked by single tracks mowed between shrubs, fruit trees, veggies and bushes. There were wild flowers everywhere, tall grasses, and the garden was unusually loud with the sound of bees. (It reminded me of the fields & meadows I used to play in as a child in rural Shropshire, when the buttercups, cowslips and foxgloves seemed so tall compared to me). It was a lovely garden to sit/eat in, and do my walking meditation. It was so quiet at night (until the cock started crowing). Most mornings I did Tai Chi & Qi Kung and then went for a swim in the lake. It was quiet cold, but once in, it was a pleasure to swim with glossy ripples of water rolling out across the lake. I smiled as I saw dragon flies mating mid-air, and once saw a water snake glide through the rushes (not too close). My Feng Shui & Tai Chi teacher Howard Choy, had been talking about yin and yang in the movements of Tai Chi walking. I decided to try a swimming meditation! As I swam in circles in the lake, I tried it with my eyes closed as much as possible and naturally I was either swimming towards the sun or away from it, and I explored the concept of yin and yang. I remembered a German Tai Chi teacher in Nepal telling me that in each movement we are born and die, and I felt like I'd only really understood what he meant, in this meditation. Genauch!