The window in my bedroom is wide open: beyond it, the rustling of a soft rain blends with the distant ringing of bells coming from a 13th-century church on a nearby hill. It feels otherworldly peaceful. It feels like I could stretch my hand out the window and touch magic.
Romanticise your life, they say. Give me a moody or rainy day and I’ll inevitably feel like I’m in a scene from some fantasy book: no matter if I’m strolling beneath skyscrapers, snuggling with a cup of cocoa on a sofa, or watching as heavy grey clouds swallow mountains.
One evening, about a week ago, I found myself huddled with six new acquaintances on a dimly lit terrace, enveloped by warm summery air and the sound of pounding rain and thunder. As we sat around a tiny square table laden with simple snacks and cups of steaming tea, we spoke and laughed and admired the simple beauty of our setting.
“Nothing like a rainy day when you have a cosy shelter and good company,” – one of the guys said. We unanimously nodded, soft smiles on our faces.
Sometimes during the conversation, I would drift off into my thoughts, amused by the idea that just 4 hours ago I didn’t know most of these people and now I was in the middle of what I’d imagined being my dream “hang out with friends” setting.
More than that, I loved how we all met: at a sourdough party. Yes, you read that right: a sourdough party. Our common friend, – let’s call her M – whom I mentioned in my April Update, had been baking sourdough bread for a few months then and she invited us all to spend the evening on a meadow: meditating, dancing, talking about bread-making, and, of course, getting to taste her homemade bread.
That, dear reader, is my type of party.
By the time we returned to M’s house, clouds burst with rain, as if they were waiting for us to get under a roof. And that’s how the six of us ended up on that terrace, having snacks and conversing about mundane and mystical, scientific and spiritual. I have no pictures of that part of the evening but it’s one of my most treasured memories from May.
Later that day, when I was back home, it struck me: maybe I’d made that happen, I’d dreamt it into being. Many times in the past months, weary of having all my good friends spread across the world, far from me, I imagined a candle-lit dinner on a terrace with a group of kind, interesting, passionate people.
And then, one day, there I was. There we were.
I stretched my hand and touched the magic.
What dream has recently come true when you least expected it?
P.S.
Writing this love letter to life this morning felt like eating for the first time in days. I wasn’t aware I had lacked nourishment until once again I got to taste what it meant to write just for the sake of writing, just because it’s the best way I know to express my endless awe of human experience and this Universe.
Thank you for the kind messages you sent me after May’s personal update, it truly means a lot!
I appreciate you being here and seeing new people join (welcome! :)
I know my other monthly essays have been long overdue and I hope this month I can find my way back to the creative source that nourishes my work.
Have a lovely rest of your Sunday and a sweet start to the week.
See you soon in your inboxes,
Nika
Mmm, sounds beautiful babe. No pictures, just memories.
Although I’m glad you took a pic of the bread… I’d like to dream that sourdough into my world too!