Moment of Bliss

It's been a long while since I have written on my personal blog. It's not that I've had nothing to write about. On the contrary. So much has happened that I've been a little overwhelmed. I'm just now beginning to integrate all the richness of my life over the past 10 months and finally able to make some sense of it.

A couple of days ago, I was talking to Silke about how I was on the verge of information overload (to further illustrate my feeling, that same evening, my computer charger caught on fire...) and that people may not understand, but I would soon need a week of vacation. At that, we burst into uncontrollable laughter. No, people would not understand: I have been on vacation since the end of November 2008!

Hear me out though: this vacation from the “real” world has been intense! I must have read at least thirty books (not including novels); I have attended numerous workshops, classes and certifications; I have done intense body, mind and spiritual work on myself; I have traveled back and forth from the U.S. five times (let's not think about my ecological footprint for now), I have visited to Lisbon, Brussels, Israel, Jordan and Egypt; and I'm setting up a business. It's been quite a year and all these experiences, all the amazing people I've met along the way, all the knowledge I have acquired, it's gotta go somewhere and my brain is full! I need an external hard drive, I think.

Anyway, this is just to say that I have not written on this blog for a long time and some of you may not have heard from me a whole lot. So here is an update of a special moment that topped everything I've been working on since I quit my job and decided to really live.

I recently spent a couple of weeks in a natural paradise by the Edisto River close to Charleston, South Carolina. I was staying at my friends' river house and taking daily trips to the river to just sit, reflect and read. It took a few days for me to overcome my fear of snakes (and all the tropical wild life) and go by the river on my own. (Surprisingly it was coming across a long black snake that got me less nervous about snakes: I realized that they were not waiting for me behind every bush and tall grass to jump out at me. They also had stuff to do that didn't involve me, me, me.)

Sitting on the dock, the view of the river is simply breathtaking. Imagine lush vegetation over-hanging on the river. Unlimited shades of green, brown and blue. Sounds of birds, fish jumping out of the water, leaves falling onto the water (it's just that quiet), bugs buzzing, clumsy squirrels dropping nuts from tall trees. Fragrances of high and low tides, fresh air and foliage. It's a place where you rarely see the trace or hear the sound of another human being. I spent hours alone or with my friend contemplating the perfect balance of stillness of nature and hyperactivity of the animal kingdom. By the river, every hour is rush hour for the dragonflies, squirrels, lizards, mosquitoes, turkey buzzards, etc. Yet, everything seems so peaceful and in harmony.

One morning, I had a moment of bliss. For those who have read the Celestine Prophecy, it’s that moment when the narrator sits on the mountain and has an intense revelation of how the Universe was created. One of these moments is hard to describe, but I attempted to describe it anyway. It's also a first attempt at "poetry" so bear with me.

It's late afternoon by the river
on the first day of fall
each animal is busy playing its part
the dragonflies glide gracefully
bringing light and joy into my heavy heart
the squirrel on top of that tall tree behind me
is preparing a comfortable nest
and the spider to my right, where has he gone?
is he extending his web?
below the surface, the fish are ready to jump upstream
six feet, I saw one jump
the man on the boat speeds by and disturbs the peace
the dock starts rocking, the water curls and waves
to quickly return to its flat, reflective surface
peace returns
peace returns to my heart as well.
the tranquility of the water,
the constant hum of the forest and its inhabitants
and the reflection of the skies on the river
spent a week teaching me that I belong here;
that there is space for me;
that I have a role to play.
The Edisto River taught me unconditional love.
my heart is full;
this summer was about love after all.

This morning, I read the perfect description of what my moment of bliss had been in the words of J. Krishnamurti as part of his meditations:

And as the slight breeze came from the hills, stirring
the leaves, the stillness, this extraordinary quality of
silence was not disturbed. The house was between
the hills and the sea, overlooking the sea. And as you
watched the sea, so very still, you really became part
of everything. You were everything. You were the
light, and the beauty of love. Again, to say “you were a
part of everything” is also wrong: the word “you” is
not adequate, because you really weren't there. You
didn't exist. There was only that stillness, the beauty,
the extraordinary sense of love.

Last spring, I had set the intention to meet the love of my life this summer. Packaged in a form I didn’t expect, love came into my life with a sense of belongingness that I had been looking for all my life on the last day of summer.