The Hidden Path (WINNER OF THE BEAUTY AWARD for Spiritual)

Parental Troubles

Each trouble may not know That it embodies opportunities, But each trouble must know That it will someday, somehow give way to new realities.

- Sri Chinmoy

"I have made my decision," I told Beni after my conversation with Andi, "I broke up with him a few minutes ago. Looks like I want to be with you, after all."

"You know, I've never doubted it," Beni replied matter-of-factly.

Which might appear rather cocky. But now that I had finally braved the hurdle, I realized that I had truly known all along, as well. Deep inside.

"I know."

Somehow, Beni and I did seem to share a strong bond of some sorts. "And I've decided to move to Graz, in order to study psychology," I dropped the bomb.

"You have? Well, that's actually good timing on your part since Dieter, my flat mate, has decided to quit his studies. Meaning that he will go back to Strasswalchen and I will have to find somewhere else to live, since I can't afford this place on my own."

"Oh? I didn't know."

"Yes. Well, in fact, I already have. Found another apartment, I mean. Do you remember Monika?"

It took my notoriously bad memory for names a few moments to come up with a face to connect to the somehow familiar name. But then I remembered: "Oh, Monika! She is the singer in the band you're playing drums in, right?" (A very recent development.)

During the brief visit to Graz in April, I had been introduced to her during a jam session his band was having one evening. Somewhere in a cellar. (Cliché, I know. But - honestly - where else can you possibly create that kind of noise, without the neighbors retaliating immediately?)

"Yes, that one. As it happens, she is going to Canada for a year and has invited me to stay in her apartment during that time. Which means that you can move in with me." Beni actually sounded excited at the prospect.

"Perfect! Wow, that's definitely a new step in my life: moving away from Salzburg and sharing an apartment with you. Far away from my parents. . ." I felt a small pang at the thought of leaving practically everybody I knew behind. Not to speak of the beautiful city that I had always loved with all my heart and had vowed to never leave. But this whole situation with Andi really didn't leave me any choice... And just in case you are wondering: I had, of course, looked into the possibility of studying in Graz with my parents before that moment.

"Speaking of which. . . I haven't told them about my plans, yet. But I don't think they will mind."

They didn't. Not too much, anyway. Of course, Mum got a bit teary-eyed at the thought that I would soon be living in a different city. She also made some effort to deter me from splitting up with Andi, but after my rather unambiguous experience only about two hours prior, she was fighting a losing battle. And she sensed it.

A few days later, my parents and my sister had gone out for the afternoon. One of our teachers had fallen sick, therefore I had come home much earlier than usual. Having spent hours studying dry economic material, I was in dire need of some peace and relaxation. The perfect time for a meditation exercise that I had been itching to try for a while: I wanted to do japa with the syllable 'Yam', which is the mantra for the heart-chakra.

Setting up my meditation spot in our guest room I placed my copy of the Transcendental (the black-and-white picture that I had taken after the lecture, so named because it shows Sri Chinmoy in his highest consciousness) on my trusted scaffold, which I had moved in front of the sofa. Perching myself on top of the soft piece of furniture, I made myself comfortable in a cross-legged position while briefly glancing out of the big window I was facing. It was still light outside, in spite of the fact that the hands on my watch informed me that it was already past eight pm. I smiled contentedly to myself: summertime. . .