Toughing it out in the storm all night wasn't an appealing prospect, and since I had a general idea of the path's direction, I decided to try to make it to my cabin. Fortunately, there are no perilous creatures in New Zealand, no poisonous snakes or dangerous animals, so my only concern was staying on the path and not being attacked by possums!

I stooped down and could actually feel the edge of the path, encouraging me to continue on hands and knees as I began crawling home. It wasn't pleasant, feeling around in the mud and rain, and many times, I wasn't even sure that I was still on the path, but in about an hour and a half, I finally felt the front porch of my cabin and slithered in. I wrapped up in a blanket, lit a candle, and started a cup of tea on my Sterno burner in plain view of my old friends, a trio of possums lined up on the porch and laughing at me, or so it appeared. They didn't seem to have any problems at all getting around in the black forest on a stormy night.

My meditation practice thrived in the small cabin. In Thailand, the general rule was to discuss meditation experiences only with like-minded monks who had been ordained for a good bit of time, and the experiences had to be accurate. Exaggerating one's meditation accomplishments was a very serious offense, subjecting the offending monk to possible expulsion from the order. The monks could be trusted to tell the truth, however, because they lived together, sometimes for many years. The way in which they lived their lives indicated the depth of their meditation, and an imposter would soon be discovered and embarrassed. They would use the descriptions of their various experiences to both encourage each other in their practice, and to seek help in areas where they were stymied. Many metaphors describe the various experiences . . .

. . . waves of incredible joy and bliss washed through my body and I felt every hair stand on end as if something was seen so unimaginably perfect and beautiful that my mind could not comprehend it. At times, there would be a momentary ecstasy; a bolt of lightening followed by a showering of emotions, drenching me again and again . . . my body would float above the ground, completely immersed in floods of rapture and indescribable, unimaginable joy, as if every discontentment and fear, garnered over many lifetimes were all erased at the same time . . . there was an overwhelming happiness; more of a contentment and peacefulness compared to the previous rushes of rapture. A distinct feeling of unification or one-pointedness of mind connected to the breath moving the diaphragm accompanied this happiness as well. I never wanted to leave the exquisite world I found myself in . . . suddenly, a circle of light appeared in my mind that I somehow intuitively was familiar with, replacing my previous concentration object . . . when standing up after sitting in meditation experiencing these things, I would find that my legs were not the least bit cramped, although I had been sitting absolutely still for many hours. In fact, they never felt better. Everything looked incredibly alive and different; colors sparkling in stunning intensity and everything exceptionally vivid; a kind of beauty never really seen before, as if I had always been looking through a dark glass. These experiences often triggered emotions, where I would weep as an astonishing joy lifted me to heights I never realized existed . . . Everything was gone, then there was the brightness, then the incredible clarity . . .

These experiences resulted from touching Reality for only a moment. I could only imagine what it would be like to be completely immersed in it. Meditation is no myth or fable, it's the real deal, and I was determined more than ever to continue with this quest until enlightenment filled my heart.

The results of meditation take time to integrate. I therefore found myself spending a lot of time merely gazing at everyday things that had now become so astonishing and beautiful. What an amazing thing a tree was, how perfect, and what magic could hold a tiny seed in its hands and then transform it into a mighty tree of such enormous beauty? I pondered the dead, brown leaves on the ground, then I looked at the new, budding leaves in the trees, and intuitively I understood the renewal of all things. I saw that I could never die! The feeling was indescribable, and although I admitted to myself that, there was much I didn't know and might never know with my mind, somehow, during these precious days in New Zealand, that was no longer important. I understood the important thing - that everything was faultless, and therefore I had no reason ever to be worried or concerned again. All was perfect just as it is.

Some nights I found myself remaining in that precious moment for hours, just staring at the Southern Cross I so looked forward to seeing when I was still in the States, that beautiful constellation that can't be seen in the Northern hemisphere. My entire existence since searching for enlightenment, and the routine of these monks in New Zealand, personified a life lived a step above oblivion, and I began to understand the immensity of the practice. I realized that although a part of me thought I knew more than these monks, another part - the part that was surrendering - recognized that I was really a novice, and knew nothing.

There were long, quiet periods as well, periods of integration where nothing at all happened in meditation. Months would go by, but then the first taste of the power of meditation after one of these dry periods would instill an unbelievably strong passion to go on, no matter the amount of time involved. It's difficult to explain the feeling except that I somehow . . . knew. What I knew, I couldn't explain, but there was a certain something, although it was far beyond my mind's ability to understand it. It was the strangest, most wonderful thing that one could ever experience.