How many times a day do you think that? If I had a dime for every time I thought, well, I’d it at least have a passive income of a couple of thousand dollars a year. I envy those perpetually optimistic folks, those people who can smile and go cheerily about their business when the boss is yelling, the weathers freezing, the bank account ticking near zero and your credit limit is reaching maximum. I on the other hand start to think about how inviting the cold, grey waters below the Golden Gate Bridge might be. I have however with time developed a certain survival mechanism, moments in time that seem so perfect, even a hardened cynic like myself feels all sweet and gooey inside, the moments that makes one remember what it is to really live, what to live for.

One of these moments occurred in the backwoods of Sri Lanka in Moneragala, my assistant and I had just taken a bone-mashing eight hour bus ride in what was a blatantly falsely advertised air-conditioned intercity bus. The sun had just set as we strapped our equipment to our backs and walked 30 minutes through the undergrowth to the house we were staying in for the period of our research. After a cup of sweet tea by the lantern light to refresh ourselves and then wandered down to the nearby stream to bathe. I hadn’t been to Sri Lanka for over two years and it felt amazing to re-immerse myself in an experience that was so peaceful and timeless. There was still enough light in the sky from the faded sun to silhouette the tops of the mora trees and kitul palms. The water gurgled in a million tones, trickling through the pools and rushing through the bathing pipe, all the while fish were almost painfully nibbling at my feet. Innumerable birds from salelinnias to grey hornbills fluttered and called in the tree-tops searching for their night time roosts adding to the steady chorus of the cicadas. 

The final touch to this magic, as we washed the cities and town’s dust from our bodies was the fireflies which came out as the last bit of light faded. Sitting on a rock, taking in the little globules of green light drifting in and out of the trees while geckoes skittered through the rocks, I was glad to be home. I finally realized what it was about me that was stuck in our small island, my sense of place. I knew everything would be good.

That is a moment that keeps me going, not only the beauty, the sounds and smells but the feeling of home.