The Moneragala moment is not the only one that keeps me going, while most of these perfect moments are from Sri Lanka there is one from England that I really enjoy recalling. A motley crew of us environmental science students was trudging through a typical English wood in mid-March, freezing our arses off and cursing at the multitude of pit fall traps we had to dig. After a few hours in the grey, moss strewn forest we finished our traps and wandered out to where the car was parked beside a field and a wide grassy bank.

We were too tired to contemplate the drive back to our digs and the bank just looked too inviting. All of us clambered up the hill and lay down in the late afternoon sun. Lying there, a warm red glow in front of my closed eyes and cigarette smoke curling out of my lungs was an experience. The grass was also alive with a myriad of early spring life, I could almost feel a million feet pattering around me, ants meandered over my feet while beetles ran into my nose and bounced back into the foliage. I lay on my stomach and watched the miniature jungle at work for a few minutes before laziness overtook me. Slowly our ribald conversation petered off, no more cigarettes were lit and all that could be heard was the breeze through the trees and the constant murmur of insect life. Lying there, my back cooled by the grass, my front pleasantly toasting in the mild sun I entered a state of semi-consciences that was one of the most relaxed states I have ever been in. That ephemeral moment is what Nirvana must feel like.