Let’s love 11:11:11:11

And off we go, approaching Kandy lake at the tip for the second time. 

After an early wake up and very slow morning, hanging on the terrace under the palm trees, drinking coffee, sitting on the couch, having SriLankan breakfast at 9, doing yoga, picking laundry, we start the second round. I can’t believe how I found that girl. Oh no how she found me, in the camp, picking me up as the stable center of the crying relief group. It feels like we’ve been together forever. Similar energies, synchronizing in all we do, how we do. I get out the shower, I forgot to shave, we’re talking, I’m in the bathroom, getting ready, we’re joking about everything while I pick what to wear. The heat of the day like each day slowly rising, I get hungry. 

I will cut the various tropical fruits we bought on the market the day before in our shopping ecstasy. Mango, lemon bananas, orange, papaya, passion fruit, melon, mandarin, banana and fresh yogurt off the clay bowl topped up with Georgian walnuts. 

She’s coming down right when I’ve finished setting the table for our second most colorful breakfast. We can’t believe it. This is paradise. Abundant tropical fruits right from the jungle as much as we want, coconut everything, anything we could ever wish for back home, thrown after us, never ending sources of fresh nutrients from the green island. 

Finally getting ready we’re standing here again at the lake, day two. 

“Let’s take some pictures now”. Beautiful view on the lake. Giggling away again about our non existent modeling and photography skills, having no intrinsic motivation to take any pictures. “Let’s walk to the right side this time.” Only seconds later the “Buddhist book store” appears in front of us. I can’t believe my luck. Super excited we enter, taking our shoes off, I scan through the rows, I can only barely hold myself back from buying half the shop. Exactly the literature I need after the last days to stay in the topic. 

Only seconds after we leave the shop a man approaches us. As every day, we’re never alone. Our energy seems to be an even stronger magnet than usual. He talks about a dance show right here, presenting the program to us, asking the standard questions. He looks at us excitedly when we tell him we came back from the meditation center. “Oh you know Upul. He’s best monk, very famous, my friend”. He’s laughing, shaking our hands. We look at the hall. Look who it is. Our host. We buy tickets for one and a half hours later. It’s afternoon. We sit in a tiny rice and curry place as usual, surrounded by locals. It’s a strange day. We wanted clothes. They got them. After lunch I will buy the pants I was wishing for. We get a huge plate of fried rice. No curry. Ice cream. Another one later. We buy snacks from the streets, sweet and salty, sit down on our reserved seats after interacting with at least five other people. 

The atmosphere is electric. I love it. The show begins. Dancing, singing, men, women in beautiful costumes, colorful, glittering, we’re clapping our hands, moving to the music, the dancers, drum players and artists are smiling. Everyone is happy and cheerful. Finally some cultural Singhali experience, a performance for anyone. Walking over hot coals as a finish to this beautiful artistic piece of such rich culture. 

We’re astonished, laughing. These cute dancing SriLankan men. It’s started raining. Of course it did because I said it too loud that I didn’t need the rain jacket. 

We have time. The rain slows down. We walk down the street. It’s gotten dark. Again we get pulled to the side. “Go to the temple, it’s time now. It’s ceremony”. We look at each other, I give her my pants. We’re walking to the temple. Women in white all around, bringing white flowers. So beautiful, so peaceful. All praying together to Prince Siddhrta, the Lord Buddha. The temple site is huge. We do not know where to go and how. Beautiful statues, golden sculptures, stories, history, museums. 

It’s been a strange day and it hasn’t just finished yet. 

When with help we finally leave the temple, most of the city is dark. We hop from one place to the next, someone shows us where we need to be. We eat again. What? Why? We don’t know. Strange. She looks at me. How did this day happen? We’re so tired. The Tuktuk driver gives us his card, of course he wants to show us all Kandy, all SriLanka. I’m proud of how we’re still laughing in our patient amazement. Arriving, our host tells us where to go the next day. We each munch a few chocolates and finally decide not to decide anything about tomorrow. It’s too early. We don’t know. Already have we made up our minds about the next days. The route is clear but we know. Every day things are different from whatever we thought they would be. 

I think back to my first days here. I can’t believe it. I see parallels. I understand. Life is a cycle. Everything is. 23:32. Time to sleep. 

The next morning starts with a story I wished to have finished a week ago. The same one. TT. I feel sick, even a bit shaky. It still hurts although I know this is coming from his broken soul. Lost. He’s writing my savior friend and companion to come see him. Beautiful places in Ella. As if we hadn’t been there. Together. Two weeks. As if all this never happened. “Where are you? I come pick you. Come without Lina”

I’m happy I have my beautiful friend here and the one back home caring for me telling her the story on the phone when simultaneously I receive the message. I breathe. I know it’s my pain only that can hurt me. 

Messages hailing over me as I connect to my loved ones sending me love, clarity, understanding. Everyone is speechless. Nothing to say. What to do. The girls back again. Involved. I feel his pain. Desperation. Across the whole island. I can hear the sirens. We all can. Only he cannot. He must have gotten completely lost in his universe trying to cover the hurt, the loneliness whatever it takes. Tears coming back again. My heart is cramping. 

The clouds move, everything becomes clear. He’s lost it. I couldn’t see. He’s going back and forth. No sense, no meaning. The drugs have taken its toll on him. Going to me, going to her, same questions as if he wasn’t present in all the past weeks. I feel empathy and I know I can’t be his savior. He’s too far gone to reach him in his world. I wish we can all heal from this. 

We get on the bus 11:11. Three days later. Three days full of joy and sharing from 11:11to11:11. Let’s Love.