Oh, the morning atmosphere here in Israel is so breathtaking. As the sun comes up from its night rest and rises above the red mountains of Arabia, it paints the sea with a shimmer of golden light. It seemingly transforms the water into some kind of glittering liquid; lights that dance and play with the gentle waves, painting the memory of an eternal ocean and a world beyond. From my bungalow in the rocks above the bay, I overlook both the desert land and shore, the shimmering water and the distant mountains, and it all blends into a perfect composition of stone, sand, water and light. A little bird lands in front of me and tries to pick some seeds from the pomegranate on my breakfast tray. It is a bit afraid and careful, but her desire for that delicious dark red sweetness is stronger than her fear. Her black and white feathers form a sweet contrast to the pastel and subdued desert colors all around.
This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, and I could sit here forever without the tedious need to do something and be productive. This moment is perfect as it is, and I’m in the fortunate position to observe and gratefully integrate that sense of ‘all is well.’
This world feels like a strange place sometimes, with so much beauty and joy but so much destruction and pain at the same time. Here in Sinai, on this Peninsula between Africa and Asia, on this ancient land where great masters like Moses and Jesus found their inspiration and guidance; in this sacred land of rocks and desert, where the silence is full of ancient voices and the dome of night stars envelops and hugs you like a divine mother; on this land exists also a very contrary parallel reality. This is also a world of conflicting Bedouin tribes, of illegal trade routes through rough and hidden mountain terrain, and lately also of fanatical Islamic terror groups hiding in the wild mountain areas in the North. Just two weeks ago there was a devastating attack on a Sufi mosque. In this place both war and peace are close, existing side by side; suffering and joy coexist as neighbors on this strange adventure of life.
Oh, the bird is back and tries to pick a few more seeds from the fruit. It makes me smile again and calls me back into the moment. Anyway, why I am I thinking all those thoughts and worrying about what is not here right now? My mind seems to find some excitement in all kinds of philosophical reflections and conclusions. Slowly my attention focuses again on the stunning beauty of this morning and the sublime sunrise over the Red Sea. My consciousness expands into the infinite ripples of light and merges with the soothing sound of the gentle waves. Sunlight dances on the water and creates a shimmering pathway between the sun and myself.
“Is this all?” my mind is asking. “Is it all about witnessing the timeless perfection of beingness? Is it all about that lonely path to enlightenment, that noble road to freedom? Where are the lovers? Where is the friendship? Where is the art? Where is the heartfelt sharing of our humanness?”
“Never mind,” I am tempted to answer, but actually there is something true in it. Enlightenment is easy, as Adamus has been telling us for years. The more difficult part is the integration of it and the full acceptance of our humanness, the full opening of our heart and senses to all levels of existence and the creative expression of our true being, the ease and joy of life.
Meanwhile the wind is picking up and the movement of the swells becomes stronger. The sound of the waves coming in has so many layers of frequencies. It has a rolling, rumbling, arousing and flowing quality; it is deep and rich, rhythmical and streaming; and it is new every moment, surprising, alive! Now the sound of a distant plane mixes with all of that, and an insect lands directly on my nose and tickles me. “Come on,” I say to myself, “this fly has the whole desert, why does it have to land on my nose right now?” I chase it away instead of trying to answer this obviously meaningless question. With the stronger wind, I also start to hear the sound of the palm leaves that cover my bungalow. They gently dance and move in the soft morning breeze, creating a very soft and soothing sound that beautifully blends with the rest of nature’s orchestra. This is the perfect music. I feel like I am hearing time moving through space, nothingness expanding and breathing into sound. It’s time to finish my coffee and start playing; time to allow that universal sound to flow through me and bring forth melodies from my heart; joyful on that road to freedom.
Check out my new album, Road to Freedom, available now in the Crimson Circle store!