I held the Universe in my hands.

It was looking back at me, curiously.

I was touched by the Eternity and the Now when I held a newborn in my hands yesterday.

My best friend gave birth to Eon Vitan a week ago and upon losing my wallet, I decided to hitchhike there. I was in that “baby mood” all day yesterday and finally, when I saw him in Nika’s hands, all helpless and profound and breastfeeding, I bursted into tears. The same way I’m bursting into tears now just thinking about it. He made me think of the Universe that I had in my hands almost four years ago; the Universe that’s been in my life ever since, but my vision gets blurred so I sometimes don’t recognize it as such. It made me see how much I’ve grown over the last years. And it made me grateful for it all.

As I was holding Eon and supporting his tiny black-haired head, I remembered the oneness. I remembered we were all once as fragile as he is now. I remembered. I remembered that we were all just these shining examples of pure light and goodness, making this world a better place. We were? Excuse me, we are. Present Tense. But somehow most of us forgot along the way.

“Well, when did it go wrong? What happened?” you might be asking yourself. Life happened. The life we ourselves chose had built layers and layers of conditions upon us. Why? So that we could get to the point where we are now and look back and unlearn and unleash everything that’s not serving us. And go on happily ever after, always aware of our light, always aware of the light of others, and always shining our light into the world.

For example, I had these two guys pull over when I was hitchhiking to Nika’s place. I could see they had probably downed one or two pints and they were heading to a local fair. And I could see the way the driver was looking at me, as though the pints had unleashed the beast. He wanted me to come along to the fair, but all I ever said was: “I’m going to see a baby. Thanks, but no thanks.” We got to talking about the music that they played rather loud in the car, and the co-pilot said: “I really like Rihanna. She’s my favourite.” And I said, for the sake of curiosity: “I see. Well, I think she’s pretty, too.” The driver then said: “I could use her up. And I could use you up, too. ” He looked at me expectantly and all I could think was: “Well, that’s too bad. Whenever did the men forget how to talk to a woman?”

“I’m a lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said and we all shared a laugh.

And the air in the car didn’t get thicker.

And the moods didn’t get tenser.

And the road didn’t get longer.

We moved on. The reason we could move on was in my ability not to play his chauvinistic game. That ability I got from yesterday’s “baby mood”. When he said he “could use me up”, I could think to myself “what a bastard, he thinks he has the power over me to do anything” and it could lead me into saying something like: “Oh, yeah? Who do you think you are? I don’t think so”. In that case I would be fighting him and what fighting ever does is exhaust the ones who are fighting. There are much better ways to avoid conflict, but the best way must be to “love your neighbour as thyself”.

Because I love myself I was very well aware who I am, where I stand and who gets closer to me, regardless of his remark. I didn’t have to fight to show the driver that; I just rested in my knowing, while the latter made him realize it, too, the minute I replied. And because I love my neighbour, in this case the driver, I nurtured him with my complete loving understanding of why he said what he said. I didn’t hold the grudge for I knew he didn’t mean any harm – he just ddidn’t have the ability to say things in a nicer, more sensitive, more appealing way. I could see he was a good man, but even more so, I could see the harmless little baby that he was once was, that he still is … although shadowed by layers and layers of conditions.

Thank you, dear Eon, for reminding me of our true essence yesterday.

Thank you, dear Svarun, for teaching me how to cultivate that essence on a daily basis.