sagesex

The horn of General Lee awoke me in a sunflower field near Angoulême. Hectic bureaucrazyness from home, delivered in a hurry at 0.59 €/minute. Not even 10 a.m., and the sun was hiding in a gloomy haze. In spite of this, the heat was punishing already. The past month had been frustrating and exhausting on many occasions, but we had always managed to go for a sunset surf. This was going to be the first day of many more to come that I would not see the ocean.

We wanted to cross France towards Luxemburg on our way home, while avoiding to pay for using their highways. If you ever looked at France on a map, you still have no idea how huge it is. My companion was falling ill and suffered in silence. The heat got worse by the minute. First stop McDonald’s, where free internet (everywhere in France! Thank you Ronald!) helped refresh the memory of the woman that had left me before I had left for Portugal. Coming home promised a whole new set of stressors, beginning with finding a place to stay because I had sublet my appartment. And now I had to think about meeting my ex as well. Thinking about the future while driving worked my brain into a painful cramp.

Then, a miracle occurred. I told my mate “Please put on some novocaine for the soul (last.fm/amazon), something to relax my mind, Eckhart Tolle or the like.” I knew he had developed a kind of Eckhart Tolle aversion, and silently I thought about Thelonious Monk. And indeed, here came The Complete Riverside Recordings of Thelonious Monk! It began to work instantly. The complex and abrasive beauty of Monk’s piano bashing rarely fails to put me in awe. This time, the effect was overwhelming, loosening up the fixations in my mind with little sparks of brilliance.

Monk’s Music had the same effect that Eckhart Tolle’s sermons often have on me (maybe this was because I had thought of him first): It made me come back to the here and now. I began to sing along and notice my environment at the same time. The sun had come out, the sky was clear. I was driving wearing only surf shorts and the hot wind was gently stroking my upper body, which was in uniquely good shape after four weeks of surfing and working out. While it seemed we started our day in the industrial outskirts of France, now we were driving through the most enchanting backwaters imaginable: Picturesque villages with cute french signs, telling tales of the most rural yet civilized country in the world, where nowadays even the most remote places own a “médiathèque”. Wonderful rivers with alluring islets, where happy, free and easy villagers bathed lazily in the sun. Eternal bridges and buildings boasting imaginative architecture, delightful trees and bushes, and a myriad of fields, sunflower and wheat and whatnot. The king of France must be rich with all these peasants paying taxes! I slipped back into thought from time to time, but the intervals of pure non-thinking consciousness and joy were growing longer.

After a stop we had enough of Monk and my companion put on another delight: Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos (amazon/last.fm). Now I have never been a believer in classical music, but he had once suggested that Bach helps cure melancholy, which is why old people are so fond of it. I can now fully attest to this. Bach totally shut out any thinking process and filled me with bliss from driving through this fascinating landscape full of marvel. I felt supremely relaxed and at ease, enjoying every bit of the spectacle to the fullest. When the sun prepared to go to sleep (don’t you have to love the french way of putting it? Le soleil se couche!), I couldn’t help but say “I think this could be the most beautiful day of my life”.

Now this is something I exclaim from time to time (just like I have been found to yell “this is my favourite song on the radio!” ten times in one hour). I was inspired to do this by the Tocotronic song “Der schönste Tag in meinem Leben” (amazon/last.fm). I find it a powerful spiritual exercise to acknowledge that in this moment, life is perfect. This has indeed been the most beautiful day in my life. And so have several others before it (though I concede that it has been a while). I find peace in the realization that the most beautiful day in my life does not need anything I might have thought is necessary for such a statement. This day, for example, lacked certain elements, like women and surfing, that I often think of as critical for my well-being. Yet these aspects did not matter at all when I found perfect joy in the moment. In fact, it might well be a great goal for my spiritual journey to speak these words in good faith every day. Maybe you can soon enjoy this feeling of relaxing into the recognition that this is the most beautiful day of your life more and more as well.

Namaste.

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A musical story of how a dreadful day on the road turned into the most beautiful day of my life and a suggestion for celebrating the most beautiful days of your life more and more often.