Buddha’s Birth

Sometimes we experience a life-changing impulse that feels like an earthquake.

And in the middle of another sleepless night it hit ME. 

I sat straight up in my bed.

It felt like lightning had struck me.

All the emptiness that I secretly cherished as an old friend, left my body.

Whatever caused this came like a miracle from heaven.

After ages of tiredness, boredom, cigarettes and liquor, a crucial decision was made.

I will change my life.

Like Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love.

If I do the same as she did, maybe I’ll be married by next summer.

Bye bye darkness, hello new me.

This is destined to work out perfectly.

After I woke up from a good night’s sleep, the idea was still alive.

Praise the Lord — it was not one of my “instant pleasure-seeking monkey” ideas that usually die within hours.

With a cup of coffee in front of me, my mind went on safari and started analysing every possible world religion.

My thoughts tried to color every form of belief.

For a second I even considered packing my bag and joining the grand Scientology family.

Catholicism was second to be banned, together with Islam, Hinduism and — wait a minute.

There it was.

A big brain fart that would bring me… more trouble.

I am going to be a Buddhist.

“Everyone can become a Buddha,” I told myself.

And so I found myself subscribing to a twelve-day retreat in Italy.

Departure: next morning.

Did I have a clue what I was getting myself into?

Not at all.

But the voice inside had spoken, and I would listen.

Due to my destructive lifestyle of the past month, there was no one to wave me goodbye.

In silence, I departed and found myself at two o'clock in the morning on a night train to Rome.

Goodness, how exciting.

I swear my breath stood still and my heart was pounding with joy.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon arrive at Pinhão. Exit on the right. Make sure to take all your baggage. The next stop is Pinhão.”

Pinhão?!

Wtf. What — oh no no no — how can this be?

This can’t be happening.

I must have overlooked something.

My only luck was that no one had checked my ticket.

How would I ever get to Rome?

Thinking of any plan to get me out of this misery, I stepped off the train.

Panic — my old companion — stood faithfully by my side.

At least something to count on.

When I left the train station, my eyes caught the beautiful scenery of a world totally new to me.

Small hills against a blue sky.

Colors everywhere, instantly making me happy.

Panic decided to leave.

Enthusiasm took its place.

The gods had spoken.

I accepted my fate and continued into an unknown adventure.

With the burning sun on my uncovered head, my first mission was to find a boutique.

I needed proper clothes.

In my new bohemian dress, I finally felt like the lady I hadn’t been for a long time.

The next café was close, so I treated myself to breakfast and googled why life had brought me here.

I laughed out loud.

It was the wine.

The wine had lured me here.

My subconscious clearly wasn’t ready for salvation.

But this girl had found her courage to change, and no one would take the Buddha out of her heart.

I was on fire.

And no one would ever extinguish that flame.

The next morning, after a walk through the vineyards, a stroll along the Douro, and the best night’s sleep I’d had in years, I returned to the train station.

This time, I made sure to reach the right destination.

I sat on my ass for ten painfully long days.

My breath traveled to places inside my body I had never discovered.

We chanted. We sang.

Sutras became calming messages I was sure I would forget the moment I left.

But I was Buddha for eleven days.

Damn.

That made me so fucking proud.

Before I went back home, I “accidentally”

stepped onto the wrong train.

When I woke up after half a day of travelling, I found myself back on Pinhão station.

This time, I ran straight into the village pub and jumped into the arms of my amazing first-adventure bartender.

He had already taken me to the stars and beyond when he offered me a place to stay the night.

There was no BnB in Pinhão.

Of course I believed him.

…or didn’t I?