To find peace

Sometimes, we underestimate the comforting force of gravity in its proper proportion.

To lay on a bed at midnight, allowing my body to rest while my mind stirs in the infinite space of my restless mind.

To float on the calm water in a pool while the sun caresses my face on a summer night. Or to levitate in the warm moonlit water in a relaxing bathtub.

To feel the freedom of the first seconds of free fall at the end of the afternoon over Higuerote Beach.

In each of those moments, I confirm that our body’s relationship with this world is, to some extent, independent of our mind’s relationship with the universe.

Free falling is not always an exercise in contemplation that will lead to more joy-filled leaps. For some, it is the last relief before resting eternally back on earth.

Floating in stormy waters in the middle of the ocean doesn’t provide the same sense of relaxation as a nighttime hot spring bath in Iceland.

Lying in bed without falling asleep because every neuron in my body orders movement, but my body cannot respond, is one of the greatest despairs.

Wanting with all your fibres to rest while you lie and wander restlessly and unproductively is a moderate torture, exhausting and unsustainable in the long term.

At that maximum level of restlessness, I close my eyes, hoping to see you once again in the dark and anxious space of my memory. Finally, your memory, warm and protective, illuminates the intimacy of the moments we shared, in which only there is you, and there is only me, and it grants me peace. I sigh.

That’s where we will always meet again! When you need it, or I need it, there in the embrace of infinite silence, where we will never miss each other and can always find peace.