Peace of Mind

After allowing my body to rest for two days in a warm and comfy 'jit' (Berber guesthome) in Imlil I was ready to make my way through a small portion of the gargantuan Atlas mountain range. Detailed descriptions of the tremendous motley of textures and colors and temperatures and emotions that I experienced would come nowhere near doing the trek justice, so I written the following and will leave most portrayals, especially visual, until I have a chance to show you some of my footage when I get back to the States.

My Grandpa Stu would have particularly loved the High Atlas trek. I found myself wishing he was there with me to tell me more about all of the plants and vegetation that surrounded me.

I am not sure how one would precisely define an epiphany. Dictionary.com says: 'a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.' I have crazy thoughts running through my mind all the time, some that may or may not provide insight into the essential meaning of my life-- or maybe, in a way, they will all eventually provide unique life-changing insight into my life, by altering the way I think or act, or by impacting a decision I will make in the future. But how could I ever pinpoint one thought that led to something bigger? If I could, would you call this an epiphany? And would I be too afraid to tell you that I had had an epiphany for fear that you might laugh at the simplicity of my 'deep' thoughts?

I have meditated a fair amount on this idea of epiphany. And I would like to share with you an epiphany of my own that I had on the second or third night of the trek. I was sitting on the balcony of a jit in Matate. The sun was preparing itself to set over the mountains to the west. Still Ramadan, the delicious smells of boxed harira and tagines on the stove for f'tur wafted up to greet me on the terrace. There was an absurd amount of vibrant yellow corn on the ground next to me. I am still not sure what it was there for, but it was so nice to look at that I have noted it here. We had made our way to the jit just in time to escape into its warmth and protection before an ominous rain cloud caught us on the trail. So, as I sat at sunset, the clear, crisp atmosphere that follows a rough and refreshing rainfall had set in.

I was so happy in that moment.

Long ago I came to the simplistic conclusion that I want to be satisfied and happy with my occupation in life. But I have learned that no matter what, I will always fall into a pattern that will at times be difficult on body and on mind, regardless of what the noble or fascinating or insert-adjective-here job I find may entail. I will need breaks every now and then. A change of scenery, a lightness of mind, if you will, that will accentuate the heavier things--those that embody the root of who I am. That moment in Matate in the High Atlas was such a moment, such a break, such an opportunity to do nothing but sit back and meditate on the serene and crystal simplicity of my life. That moment to put all else into perspective, the miniscule details, into a large and all-encompassing picture: me, Lauren Rhode, within that village, this coutry, our world, the universe. Epiphany?