The Real Golden Hour

In meditation I sometimes have it… but the other day, sitting sick in bed, working, the feeling came over me. Maybe it was a kind of delirium brought on by the raging war inside fought by my white blood cells. But a quiet contentment came over me as easily as if I’d slipped behind a golden screen in the afternoon when the sun is going down. The “golden hour” photographers and filmmakers say. For a moment, I was in a real golden hour when I wanted nothing more outside myself to be happy, to be content. I did not need the world to move, or the numbers to come out 7s, or the wind to shift, or to get the call, for the man to come running to me, to hear the knock on my door, to be validated by the press, to hear the audience cheer, to have all the money I want, to have the time I need, to have my ships finally come in. There was no waiting. No anticipation. No desire. No regret. No past. No future. Just a golden hour living just as I was. Just as I am.

   Rainy golden hour at Muraste Nature Reserve, Estonia   by Kristoffer Vaikla (Creative Commons)

Rainy golden hour at Muraste Nature Reserve, Estonia by Kristoffer Vaikla (Creative Commons)