So what? I begin to argue with the eagle, but I find that I am doing it rationally, trying to reason. How will I live in this world after having gone through what I did in Eternity?
“Find a way,” replies the eagle, almost inaudibly. Then it departs—forever—from my life.
The instructor whispers something—he reminds me that I have to run when my feet hit the ground.
I see the grass in front of me. The thing I had so yearned for before—reaching solid ground—has now turned into the end of something.
Of what, exactly?
My feet hit the ground. I run a little, and the instructor controls the paraglider. Then he comes up to me and loosens the chains. He looks at me. I gaze at the sky. All I can see are other colorful paragliders, approaching where I am.
I realize that I am crying.
“Are you all right?”
I nod yes. I don’t know if he understands what I experienced up there.
Yes, he understands. He says that once a year he flies with someone who has the same reaction as me.
“When I ask what it is, they aren’t able to explain it. The same thing happens to my friends; some people go into a state of shock and they only recover when their feet touch the ground.”
It’s exactly the opposite. But I don’t feel like explaining anything.
I thank him for his comforting words. I would like to explain that I never wanted what I experienced up there to end. But it’s over, and I have no obligation to sit here explaining anything to anyone. I walk away to sit on one of the park benches and wait for my husband.
I can’t stop crying. He lands, approaches me with a big grin, and says it was a fantastic experience. I keep crying. He hugs me, says it’s all over now, and that he shouldn’t have made me do something I didn’t want to.
It’s not that at all, I say. Just leave me alone, please. I’ll be fine in a little while.
Someone from the support team comes to collect our outfits and special shoes and hands us our coats. I do everything automatically, but my every move brings me back to a different world, the one we call the “real” world, the one where I don’t want to be at all.
But I have no choice. The only thing I can do is ask my husband to leave me alone for a while. He asks if we should go back to the hotel because it’s cold. No, I’m fine right here.
I sit there for half an hour, crying. Tears of bliss that wash my soul. Finally, I realize that it is time to return to the world for good.
I get up. We go to the hotel, get our car, and my husband drives back to Geneva. The radio is on so no one feels compelled to talk. I gradually begin to get a terrible headache, but I know what it is: my blood returning to parts that were blocked by emotions that are finally beginning to dissolve. The moment of release is accompanied by pain, but it’s always been that way.
He doesn’t need to explain what he said yesterday. I don’t need to explain what I felt today.
The world is perfect.
IN JUST one hour the year will come to an end. The city decided on significant spending cuts for Geneva’s traditional New Year’s Eve celebrations, so we will have fewer fireworks. It’s just as well; I’ve seen fireworks my whole life and they no longer give me the same thrill as they did when I was a child.
I cannot say I am going to miss these past 365 days. The wind blew, lightning struck, and the sea nearly capsized my boat, but in the end I managed to cross the ocean and reach dry land.
Dry land? No relationship should go off in search of that. What kills a relationship between two people is precisely the lack of challenge, the feeling that nothing is new anymore. We need to continue to be a surprise for each other.
It all begins with a big party. Friends come out, the celebrant says things he’s repeated at hundreds of weddings, like that idea of building a house on rock, and not on sand. The guests throw rice; we throw the bouquet. The single women secretly envy us, and the married women know we are starting on a path that is not at all like what we’ve read about in fairy tales.
And then reality gradually begins to set in, but we don’t accept it. We want our partner to remain the person we met at the altar and with whom we exchanged rings. As if we could stop time.
We cannot. We should not. Wisdom and experience don’t change the man. Time doesn’t change the man. The only thing that changes us is love. While I was in the air, I understood that my love for life, for the universe, was more powerful than anything.
I REMEMBER a sermon written by a young unknown nineteenth-century pastor analyzing the Epistle of Saint Paul to the Corinthians and the various sides that Love reveals as it grows. He tells us that many of the spiritual texts we see today are addressed to only one part of man.
They offer Peace, but do not speak of Life.
They discuss Faith, but forget Love.
They tell us about Justice, and do not mention Revelation, like the one I had when I jumped from the precipice in Interlaken and the one that got me out of the black hole I had dug in my soul.
May it always be clear that only True Love can compete with any other Love in this world. When we give everything, we have nothing more to lose. And then fear, jealousy, boredom, and monotony disappear, and all that remains is the light from a void that does not frighten us, but brings us closer to one another. The light that always changes, and that is what makes it beautiful and full of surprises—not always those we hope for, but those we can live with.
To love abundantly is to live abundantly.
To love forever is to live forever. Eternal life is coupled with Love.
Why do we want to live forever? Because we want to live another day with this person by our side. Because we want to keep going with someone who deserves our Love, and who knows how to love us as we think we deserve to be loved.
Because living is loving.
Even Love for a pet—a dog, for example—can justify the life of a human being. If he no longer has this bond of Love in his life, any reason to keep on living also disappears.
Let us first seek Love, and everything else will be added.
During these ten years of marriage, I have enjoyed almost every pleasure a woman can have, and had to bear things I did not deserve. Yet when I look back, there were only a few moments—usually very short—when I was able to find even a poor imitation of what I imagine True Love to be: the birth of my children, when I sat holding hands with my husband and looking at the Alps, or the enormous jet of water in Lake Geneva. But these few moments are what justify my existence, because they give me the strength to keep going and bring joy to my days—no matter how much I tried to bring them sorrow.
I go to the window and look at the city outside. The snow they had promised did not fall. Still, I think this is one of the most romantic New Year’s Eves I have ever had, because I was dying and Love revived me. Love, the only thing that will remain when the human race has died out.
Love. My eyes well up with tears of joy. No one can force himself to love, nor can he force another person. All you can do is look at Love, fall in love with Love, and imitate it.
There is no other way to achieve love and there is no mystery about it. We love others, we love ourselves, we love our enemies, and then we will never want for anything in our lives. I can turn on the television and see what is happening around the world because, as long as a bit of Love exists in these tragedies, we are heading for salvation. Because Love begets more Love.
Those who know how to love, love Truth, rejoice with the Truth, and do not fear it, because sooner or later it redeems everything. They seek the Truth with a clear, humble mind lacking prejudice or intolerance—and are ultimately satisfied with what they find.