Being the Moment

Written at: Arlanda Airport, Sweden, just before taking off to India
Date: June 9, 2008
Photo Credit: I. Roman

My journey begins on this beautiful sunny morning of June 9, 2008. A journey where time is travel and travel is time. Where all the spacious gaps are filled with inquisition and self reflection. Where dull moments are momentous, and where boredom turns into curiosity. A time, where love and pure joy can move to tears.

Months passing by timelessly. Days colourful, curious, adventurous. To enter this new dimension of nomadic existence, means to completely open to the freedom of movement. Living only for the sake of living. Should there ever be any other purpose? Shouldn’t life bring joy purely because it is life and it is living us?

Yes, life is living us beautifully.

I am watching all the faces. Some tired faces, some happy ones. Many look indifferent, some coloured by the look of excitement, perhaps even escapism. What is contained with us? Within our heads with never-ending space? Heads with physically defined parameters, but endless abyss of information, secrets, pain, happiness, love, enjoyment, memories, concepts, ideas, stress, aspirations, inspiration, desires, wants.

Someone talking on the mobile beside me, at 530am. What could possibly be so important? Why can’t we give ourselves space even in the quiet hours of the morning? Why are many afraid of self-intimate moments? Why are many running away from the simplicity of being with oneself? Instead, moments seem to be filled with ‘doing’ as though space always needs filling. As though moments of complete mystery need to be blocked, killed, muted, and made predictable, safe, and comfortable. Why do we often invent moments, rather than just be the moments?