When I Remember to Look

A morning in the oasis

I wrap my hands around a cup of freshly brewed coffee and take a deep breath. Steam rises, dancing with the morning light.

I close my eyes.

I can hear the wind before I feel it. I hear it dancing through the branches of the trees, swirling the leaves into its charm. Then I feel it on my skin, like a waterfall of kisses. An embrace of Mother Nature herself.

I feel alive. I am awake.

I open my eyes. Everything shines in an intense green. I look around and see all kinds of plants imaginable. Tall and small palms. Old and young shrubs. Between the green, other bright colors burst through. Red, white, pink, violet, orange blossoms. So many beautiful flowers. Butterflies dance around them with delight. Hummingbirds greet me. Messengers from the Universe.

I gaze at the view. I can hardly believe my eyes. It feels like I’m living in a small oasis. Almost like paradise.

Or maybe we never left paradise. Maybe we only forgot how to look. How to notice. How to actually be aware.

Photo by the Author.

The lake is calm today. Small boats skim across the water and break the sea of thousands of shining diamonds. The sky is bright blue. No clouds in sight. Not yet.

The volcano stands alone. Quiet, yet powerful in its presence.

I take a sip of my coffee. Gratitude fills my heart. I write in my journal, as I do every day.

Thank you.
Thank you for another day in paradise.
Thank you for another day of life.

I breathe in deeply. Air and life fill my lungs. I feel love flowing through my body. Bliss.

I smile and think, this is it. This is what life can feel like.

I look more closely around me. I notice every small detail. Somehow everything moves in slow motion. A line of ants moves steadily along the wall, disciplined, focused. A butterfly pauses on a pink blossom before rising again. My gaze wanders from one detail to the next, slowly but surely. Time feels different when attention rests gently on things. I savor every moment that feels almost endless.

Suddenly, I feel tears run down my cheeks. An ocean of gratitude.

Photo by the Author.

The coffee has gone cold beside me.

Isn’t it a miracle to be alive? To be conscious? Of nature and of myself?

Lately, I have moments like this more often. Moments when I suddenly become aware that I am alive. How incredible all of this is. That I can see, hear, smell, feel, and even think. How can that be?

Though what are thoughts? I cannot grasp them, yet I can feel them. I can feel their presence, their consequences. Sometimes beautiful. Sometimes less beautiful. I can speak them out loud. I can write them down. I can live them. I can forget them. But not all of them disappear quickly. Some words stay for a lifetime.

So I try to think beautiful words. And share them.

But today, I am not thinking. These words flow toward me. I do not invent them. They arrive on their own. They fly toward me, like hummingbirds, and I catch them.

Maybe I am a channel. A medium of a joyful message.

But of which message?

The message that life is beautiful. But only if I direct my attention toward it.

So often I forget. I forget where I come from. Forget why, or rather that, I am here. Forget what truly matters.

Sometimes I think many of us live in this forgetting.

But in moments like this, I feel that I am waking up. Waking up from the nightmare of forgetting. I see the beauty around me. And I wonder how I could have ever forgotten.

And yet I know that I will soon find myself inside these dreams again. I try, as often as I can, to remember that it is only a dream. And I try to remember that I can wake up again.

For me, this might be one of the most difficult tasks in life. It requires discipline. Patience. And above all, compassion. For myself and for everyone around me. Forgiving myself for forgetting and staying gentle while trying again.

In the meantime, I want to make these dreams beautiful. Why live inside a nightmare when I can create the most beautiful dream of my life?

Because fear is there. And fear pulls me quickly into its arms. With fear, I feel safe. Safe from disappointment. But it feels as if nothing grows there. Everything seems to stay the same.

I feel it is time to leave this place. This place of safety, but also of dryness and desert. Nothing can grow here, no matter how hard I try to plant seeds. They wither.

Photo by the Author.

It is time.

I leave this place. I take fear with me, holding its hand. It may come along, yes. But it will not control my life. Not anymore.

I want to wake up. I want to remember that I can return to this oasis. That paradise has always been here, before my eyes, even when I could not see it.

Here, I want to plant seeds. I want to grow trees, plants, and flowers. I want to care for them.

With love. With patience. With compassion. With discipline.

Soon, I will harvest the fruit.

And I’m grateful already for how far I have come.

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I love you.

Eilin 🧚🏼‍♀️

And remember to be gentle with yourself.

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