TOUCHING HEAVEN

Has any of you ever hoped for heaven and found paradise? Maybe I did when sometime last year I found a little modest getaway tucked along the slope of a mountain high up above the beautiful Indonesian city of Bogor.

Firdaus, the Arabic for paradise, came to me in one of my life's most miraculous phases. Like all miracles it was never here to stay and like them it left me gifts, reminders of its visit. That miracle afforded me the opportunity to believe that I had touched Heaven and was in God's presence and in that magical moment I fell really in love for the very first time.

Even if Firdaus was to be taken from me I would still have its many beautiful imprints on my mind.

There is that unforgettable evening when we were awed by the setting sun sinking behind the distant mountain appearing as a raging fire burning the mountain and the twilight horizon, and painting the early evening sky with bright, strong hues of orange and red. Then the day when the thick, cold, damp mist roll in at such speed that it took over our sitting room before we had time to shut it out and after it had swallowed the world outside mercilessly. That day I understood how awful it would be without someone always there to love and comfort me; someone I too loved unconditionally. For, the house was like a little toy wrapped in cotton wool, quite alone. It could well have been in its own gift box at that moment ready for God to give away as a present. What about that late afternoon when the gale stormed into the valley and ripped the roofs of many of the more exposed dwellings. I remember the fear so clearly nuanced into the unscheduled muezzin call to prayer, a call made stronger by a faith buoyed by danger. I knew then that my humble retreat was indeed heaven for we were left mostly untouched in our little niche in the well of the mountain's palm.

I must have touched Heaven at least once if not always when I am home in Firdaus. Its mock log cabin facade may seem tacky to the arty-farty, but to me it blends in nicely as man's friendly gesture to the environment. For, I have been toying with giving it a touch of class, like Corinthian columns holding up an imposing porch so the Parthenon may be reproduced and the ancient Greek gods be given a home away from home. Or even a brush of white and aquamarine blue and maybe succeed in hauling the Mediterranean up to the mountains. But, other than the constraints of money, that little cabin seems so perfect for where it is.