My body was drenched with beads of sweat and the harsh downpour of the monsoon rain, while walking on an eroding cliff. Agitated at the slippery mud, I walked faster, and faster, and faster… until I slipped. I looked up and was greeted by faces and screams of horror. I looked down but was enticed by a manifestation of the grim reaper: a fast-moving river enshrined with boulders. Then silence. Absolute silence. Yet the screams haven’t stopped, the rain continued to pour even louder and even harder than before. But there was silence. No thoughts. No voices. No emotion. Just peace.

That happened when I was 13, while hiking near Jakarta. Obviously, I managed to climb back onto the trail. I was convinced that was my time to go. I thought I would be afraid, but I wasn’t. For a moment, I accepted my fate. Ironically, that moment was the most peaceful moment I have ever felt in my entire life.

Isn’t it ironic that peace is found closer to death, than in life?

Due to the personal nature of this entry, the rest of it is found at http://asiansoul.livejournal.com. Only a few handpicked livejournal friends have access to it. Sorry.