Today was a beautiful day here. Sunny and warm. I raked our front lawn this morning because there were 3 layers of dust and dirt and grime on it from the past winter. I got 4 bags of leaves and other culch off it. Then I baked a double batch of G.I. (glycemic index) muffins, half of which I will freeze. I eat one at 10:00 a.m. at work and another at 3:00 p.m. They are supposed to make me not want a cinnamon roll or a bag of chips from the cafeteria. Most of the time it works.
Way back in my 25 things about me, I said that I had had a couple of out of body experiences. I thought I might tell you about those now. There have been two. One was run-of-the-mill, ho-hum, drug induced: I was in high school. I was down on our shore (my mother's property on a large lake) with some friends. We were smoking marijuana. For some reason, I decided to hyperventilate and then hold my breath. That lead to what I suppose some might call a mini seizure. We were sitting on the rocks and the next thing I remember was screaming, "Party, party, help me, I'm getting hurt!" I was flailing around on the rocks and my friends were freaking out. It truly was an out of body experience, however, as in my mind, time had no meaning. I could have been "out" for mere seconds, for a couple of minutes, or for years. It was the oddest sensation. Time had no meaning. I could hear myself calling out, but it wasn't me. It was a very strange experience and one that I did not want to repeat.
My second out-of-body experience also happened on our property the lake. I was in Grade 9 or 10, and I had stayed the night at my brother's cottage on the shore - and I hadn't been taking drugs the night before! I woke up fairly early in the morning, and right away, I realized that something was different. Every pore, every cell in my body was alive. I could feel each one. Individually. It was an amazing sensation. I got up and went outside. It was a beautiful, clear, bright, June morning. The lake was sparkling, the leaves were swaying in the light breeze, the birds were singing. And I felt that I was a part of it all, that I was connected to each and every thing around me - the lake, the trees, the birds, nature itself. I was - literally - one with everything. Everything resonnated. I was at one with and at peace with the universe. Being the age I was, it really didn't sink in just how spectacular this moment was until later. I continued on, walking up the field to my mother's house. It was all like a dream. Bright, vibrant colours and noises. I remember at one point I knelt down to smell a wild strawberry blossom. I can still smell it... But then, just as quickly as it had come, it went. I could feel it fading away and wanted desperately to try to keep it, but to no avail. The entire experience, I suppose, lasted perhaps 10 minutes. But it was amazing. And I have NEVER experienced anything like it again. It refer to it now as my moment of enlightenment or clarity. It must be what the Dalai Lama and other Buddhist practionners experience on a daily basis. To me, it was Nirvana - it was all connected and it was all good. My only regret is that I didn't appreciate the experience fully until quite a bit later and that it was so fleeting. Try as I might, I can't reproduce it. It was spontaneous and random. I hope I will find it again one day.
Some random pics from the weekend:
Almost a full moon (from our deck):
Our back yard (most of that snow is now gone):
Tofu/chickpea stew (recipe will follow):
Our rhubarb patch!
A stubborn patch of snow!