Rain on the Windowpane

In the afternoon, I sit at my desk. Fingers fidget with my pen as a storm approaches. I contemplate what to write on the blank sheets of paper in front of me. However, I grow distracted by the sound of rain against the window pane.

Slow drizzle quickly turns into a downpour. The water droplets grow fatter and louder. All thought seems to falter. I cannot concentrate. Mesmerized, my eyes are glued ahead- in awe of the rain. Soon, my mind starts to drift, my head becomes hazy and I lay down on the desk.

Just for a moment, I think to myself, then I can write....

I can still hear the rain outside. The rushing water captures my heart. My breathing becomes slow while I can feel the rise and fall of my chest against the desk. Suddenly, the rise and fall begins to feel like the rock of a boat on the ocean.

My ears pick up a sound:

Drip...drop...droosh....

Then, they hear a new sensation:

Swish...swosh... swoosh...

I shoot up alert to the change. Looking around, I notice that I'm in a canoe at sea! How did I appear here? Is this a dream? The two questions come to mind. My body feels the sensations of sunlight and motion. Incredible! To think at one moment I'm sitting in my room but, in an another instant, I am in a new location.

I see the oars attached at both sides of the small vessel. Yet, without a clear direction, I think it best to allow nature to guide me. Sometimes we need to drift along and give life a chance to place us where we need to be. The thought gives me a calm sensation just as the waves continue to rock the canoe.

Time passes and I notice land ahead. A small strip of sand with great palm trees decorating the background greets me with earnest. I want to know what's there. So, with a destination in sight, I take the oars and row forward. The waves propel me quickly while my arms provide a guide for the canoe.

The sand is warm against my feet. Once I reach the shore, I drag my boat away from the water. I may need this craft later. My thoughts are caught off guard as I notice people running towards me. Cautious at first, but afraid to show fear, I drop to the ground. In a bowing position, I attempt to show them that I am not a threat. Somehow, the indigenous people of this island come to trust me.

No, they do not seem like the cannibalistic tribes wanderers come across in their adventures. Although I don't understand their words, a smile shows me that everything will be fine. A man reaches out his hand towards me. I accept his help in standing upright. He speaks to his companions and they happily jeer. They seem excited and run towards the forest. The man motions me to follow.

Through a vibrant forest I carry on. Amazing! The land is so lush and the sunlight shooting between the trees is stunning! I hear the sound of foreign birds. At first, I could not see where they were hiding. Thpugh someone can spot the animal. With an eager smile, the man leading me points above. There in the trees rests a beautiful parrot-like bird. Perhaps an undiscovered species.

My soul feels an alarming sense of delight. When we approach their home, that happiness gains a new sentiment. How simple their huts look, but lovely in the same. There is a large circle of stones surrounding a great camp fire. I can smell the scent of food wafting through the air.

The hut next to the campfire has women cooking what appears to be tropical fruits and some sort of meat. Gazing around I can see small chickens darting between the huts. There are children playing with brown dogs- once wild on the island but no more with the company of humans. I don't know what the wildlife of the island looks like, but I presume there has to be game somewhere. What else would they eat?

The man breaks my thought as he brings me to the cooking hut. Apparently, I came in time for dinner. I can feel the gaze of other tribespeople on me-watching my every move. After a while, I begin to believe that the man who invited me here is their leader. Once he speaks to them, they seem to be reassured of myself as nonthreatening.

I take a wooden plate of food. Then I am brought to a stone seat next to the fire. Three small children approach me. They talk to the man and point at me. He smiles and pats their heads- they too needed reassurance. I am safe.

The food upon closer inspection includes mango, pineapple and chicken. The animals eaten here must be domestic. I rub my stomach and smile. The man laughs and nods his head. He calls over one of the cooks and speaks to her. She smiles at me and clasps her hands. I do the same in return- bowing my head as a notion of gratitude.

Night falls and I am able to see how they spend time with one another. People carry out wooden drums. Beating in a rhythm of their own- people dance lively around the fire. I and others clap along to the beat. A teenager comes over and motions me to dance with the others. I know nothing about dance, but that I tend to flail around like a lunatic. Yet, I couldn't deny myself the chance to participate in a new event.

Truly, this night is going down in my list of moments I will never forget. I dance along as best as I could- remembering that the secret is feeling the beat. A woman approaches us an insists on locking arms. The teenager nods his head and attempts to tell me to take her hand. We grab onto one another. Soon others join suite and we have a chain around the flames. There is such joy that time seems to not exist.

After the moon hangs higher on the horizon, everyone retires into their homes. A fire watch sleeps close to the fire to make sure that it is safe. The warmth of the great flames seems to travels into other huts. I notice this especially with the leader's home. Although the fire isn't directly close, the warmth makes an appearance.

The man brings me a woven mat to lay on. The three children from before are there with their mother. My guess was correct. I smile and give a short now while thanking him for his generosity. He pats my back in reply. The family lays together a few feet away from me. I can't help but to drift into thought.

Laying on the mat, I stare at the ceiling. The hut's design may seem simple. On the other hand, simplicity does not mean inefficiency. The branches used are tied firmly with rope. I assume that they used mud to help strengthen the structure- that way rain cannot penetrate the roof. The thought of rain reminds me of home...

Home is a place where people live together in harmony. At least, that is a more healthy and loving ideal definition. The community here on the island presents just that- a healthy sense of love and commitment towards one another. Again I can't help but to think of the absence of time. After all, without scheduling and timeframes, people seem to be more relaxed. The people here seem to be happier without a clock.

I sigh to myself. Perhaps, there's a lesson to be learned from this experience. The thought is my last for my mind is too tired to continue contemplating about life's mysteries. With fatigue, my eyelids grow heavy. I can hear everyone else breathing in their sleep. Soon my breath mimics their own and I too fall asleep.

Suddenly, a loud thunderclap crashes above. I shoot upwards, expecting to see rain pouring onto of a hut. However, I see the dark sky in front of my desk. The rain continues to pelt the window pane. I sigh as I wonder how I returned. Perhaps, all was just a dream. Though it felt so real!

Regardless, the experience may be unexplainable, but it is unforgettable. I look down at the drool on my paper. Looks as though I need new paper to write this experience. After all, whether or not people believe- at least I know:

Truth is what our spirit perceives.