Momentary nirvana

June 11th, 2023

I don't know the purpose of this building. It could have been a bell tower, now closed down with a full roof. Or maybe a vestry — some old churches had a vestry outside of the building instead of inside as it is common nowadays. Maybe a chapel — that is another possibility. It is located in a village about 20 kilometers from where I live, next to a late-baroque church from the 18th century. That church was my destination. I wanted to see the original masonry work and sculptures inside, but unfortunately, it was closed — so I just walked around the grounds.

I put my bike down, there was no place to chain it. There were no people around but I routinely chain my bike no matter where I am and what surrounds me. It is a mindless but safe habit. Another habit I have is to take a break every 20 kilometers (or every hour) or so when I am cycling — and that is how I plan my trips or most of my trips — since there are times when I just go ahead and my route is determined by a green or red light at the intersection — I always choose the green and don't worry about where it will lead me.

But then and there, I sat down in the shade by the wall looking at the building and trees with the last wisps of thoughts about the people who built it and planted those trees and cared for them and prayed there as well. And then the thoughts were gone. I was still aware of being and was registering the wind rustling the leaves, but not more than that. I existed for a moment outside of time, with a blank slate of mind — and no emotions of any kind. I was beyond the reach of the worries of and about the rest of the world, while still being cognizant of consciousness, or lack thereof. It wasn't bliss — it was so much more than just that.

I snapped back with a revving engine somewhere. I got on my bike and went home. That happened yesterday and I still feel calmer and more composed. I got a glimpse of something I want to experience again — and will try to replicate it.