This is the scenario of a simple story that was
settled before I can remember and far beyond of my awareness. It doesnt
follow the usual descriptive order as you will understand, because the end
is in fact the beginning.
January 2004
It was a common day, like any other of the last weeks;
working, preparing the discussion of my masters degree dissertation, and
organizing the trip to Nepal intending to satisfy the need for a deep rest
intertwined with a motivation to feel like a foreigner, which had been
growing as a result of two years without vacations. I was willing to
listen to other folks languages, to observe their traditions, to know
their religion, their eating habits, their costumes, their homes and so
on. Europe seemed so close; it didnt look as deep as my necessity, and
Buddhist philosophies had roused my interest some years before.
One month earlier I was attending the prayers at the
Buddhist temple in Lisbon. My goal was starting to prepare myself for my
stay in Nepal, to experience in reality the prayers which the Dalai Lama
speaks about, and if possible to learn a few meditation
techniquessomething that might be of value in moments of anguish, which I
knew Id go through, and might help me to find the way, to
enlightenment. At the end of the day I had taken the first step,
voluntarily, to be just one more dharma bum of Kerouacs stories,
and the fear of being like the guy who decided to be a monk invaded me as
well. Fear because I had family and friends, because as a psychologist I
had a job in which I was responsible for others, because in my inner self
I knew I wanted ardently to achieve buddhity and this thought, more than
any other, scared me.
Id searched for prices and dates on which I could
travel. The idea was to take the plane to Delhi, and from there one of the
buses doing the route to Kathmandu because it was cheaper, and to be
traveling with the local people appeared much more interesting. But the
answer had been invariable everywhere: All flights are booked, theres
nothing else to do but wait! Very well, Ill wait. I waited for almost a
month in anxiety, as if I was forcing something without understanding
what, while simultaneously I was feeling some insinuating culpability
traits because I thought, one month absent might be an irresponsibility;
after all it is time only to meditate on my existence and the worlds
suffering.
Some days went by, and circumstances changed. My
mother wasnt able to travel to Egypt as planned, two months from
then:
Do you want to go instead of me? she
asked.
I dont know, I answered.
Im thankful for the new alternative but, I dont give
it a great importance because my mind is hooked on Nepal; when suddenly,
in the middle of some casual activity, my mind was cleared and I could
feel myself thinking thats the trip of my life: going to the desert,
crossing Sinai and getting to Jerusalem. A shiver ran through my body
from head to toe; I want to go!
So, I started going to these Catholic group meetings
and started to practice my religion assiduously. At the same time I
decided to buy and start reading the Quran to know what Muslims think
about God. The idea of God had been hovering
above my spirit more clearly for four years now. That is, I was born into
a believing family, although I didnt go to church regularly. When I was a
child my mother kneeled down with me every night, and right beside the bed
with our palms folded we prayed the Our Father and Guardian
Angel; then she used to place me comfortably under the sheets, and
I knew I could sleep safely.
I started to move further away from this feeling when
I was 17. I moved alone to Lisbon to study at the university. I started to
enjoy the opportunity to hang out with friends, to have some drinks and to
subtly and beautifully mask the trap that was getting installed, to
confront timidity and erase the pain of the void which went on growing
each time I looked for something more within others and kept finding them
also empty. They said I was hoping for someone who believed in the
impossible, in the dream, in love, in the will to transpose it into
reality and defend it with the entire soul against everything that might
diminish its beauty. As time passed by, each day I started to use fewer
religious words in my vocabulary and, fundamentally, the word that was
able to translate all the above sentiments was God. Little by little those
words progressed to others such as better world, peace, altruism,
predisposition to, instincts, emotions, cognitions, neurotransmitters and
all the panoply of scientific talk, until two years ago.
May 25, 2004, Approximately 3:00 a.m.
Im on top of Mount Moses, Sinai. In the last hours
Ive prayed, read the Bible, and tried to be close to God as much as I
could because today is Christs Ascension Day, and Ive planned everything
to be at this place on this specific moment. My heart is full of happiness
and gratitude, but some fears start arising in my mind because theres no
one there except myself and some Bedouins on the other side. Exactly at
that moment I perceive something, I dont know what it is, but its like a
gentle melody. I focus my attention on it and start listening to the most
beautiful crystalline and soft voices, and so I turn to the immense
vastness of stars above me. Where do these voices come from? They sound
like angels. Oh my God, I never heard the angels but could it be? Who else
could whisper this sweet music and reach the top of the mountain? I dont
know. It doesnt really matter. I feel such a great peace and comfort
just like that childhood feeling again- and I know that I can sleep now;
I know that Im safe. Surely I know theres a God, Who created the heavens
and the earth and all that is between them.
Walking back again through the cities of Egypt I saw
Muslims praying on the streets when it was prayer time, no matter what,
and I thought what humbleness, and what faith these people have. I had
just been given that precious blessing on the mountain, and every time I
watched them I felt I was losing something, I felt incomplete, and each
time it caused me sorrow.
It took me a while to understand why; I had never in
my life knelt before someone and even less did I put my forehead on the
ground to thank someone for anything or to ask anything of someone. God
revealed Himself to me to be the only one worthy of my kneeling, and
towards Whom I felt the need of doing so. And what about Jesus, the
questions started sparking uninterruptedly outside and inside myself: Do
you worship him? Is he the son of God? Is he God? Define the concept of
trinity. Why did Jesus die? How did he resurrect? Who wrote the Bible? Do
you believe Muhammad is a prophet of God? My brain started spinning round,
because my heart knew what my mind did not.
I went back to Portugal, continued reading the Quran
until the end, and faced myself with my daily world. The world built by
humans, the world of visible things, the relentless racing for a bursting
wallet, falsehood among lips and eyes, sacred words proclaimed in vain,
the promulgation of false deities and faith in its images, temptations
served on luxuriant hotel breakfast trays, denuded legs lying over the
satin sheets rented for a night, while the scrupulously lustrous shoes
pass through the corridor in large steps, the nationally approved and
promoted vices, the lie, death excused by the former and death without any
excuse, and families built on dishonour. I was overcome with anguish
because we dont belong to this world. Something must be
changed.
March 30, 2005: First Act
Two and a half months before, I had arrived to Cairo
once again. But now I had a different insight in my heart. And on the
evening of that specific day, from the depths of my being, I repented and
asked for forgiveness; I humbly said grace and prayed to be accepted while
my voice was trembling with the words There is none worthy of worship
except Allah and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah. I decided to change
myself. |