Entering the Portal

Of the park bench

After Eckhart Tolle experienced what many have called enlightenment, he abandoned the doctorate degree he was pursuing in favor of spending the next two years going to the same park in Central London every day and sitting on a bench. This doesn’t surprise me. It wouldn’t surprise me if all the enlightened around the world shared a habit of frequenting park benches. The park bench is a portal to the divine.

I know this because I entered such a portal this past Sunday.

It had been a strange weekend up to that point. Early Friday morning, I took a train up to DC to see someone from a past life and pop around the nation’s capital for a few days. I don’t know if it was the surprise of seeing this person, the edible I ate on Saturday, or just a generally adverse reaction to being in a big city, but I was in a weird mood. Lonely, foggy, a bit unmoored. It was one of those moments where life just felt a little…foreign. Sort of like a protracted out of body experience, but with a more anxious energy. I don’t know. It was weird.

I did my best to let the strange mood run its course. On Sunday morning I slept in, went to a coffee shop to read for a while, then walked over to the Hirshorn museum to look at a Basquiat piece. Not a bad few hours. Still, I felt unsettled.

After a quick detour to check out the restrooms at the Asian art museum, I found myself on the National Mall an hour before I was to meet my friend. My legs were tired from all the city walking. I spotted an inviting black bench in the middle of the Mall and made my way over, pausing for a moment to survey the scene. The Washington Monument pierced the sky to my left, and the Capitol stood proudly on the right. The square patches of the Mall’s radiant, perfectly manicured lawns were splayed out in front of me and spanned the distance between each of the landmarks. They were flanked by a long line of trees which lightly concealed the row of museums across the way.

It was only a few seconds after sitting down that I felt myself fall outside the flow of time and into the ethereal realm of the park bench. I had gone through the portal.

This realm of the park bench, it turned out, was a balm for the soul. It was a warm, weighted blanket with a thread count of infinity, constructed from the fibers of right now. It was a cosmic massage from the hands of God.

My jaw unclenched. My internal monologue faded away. My frenetic energy abated. I floated in the boundless womb of the universe and watched the eternal moment unfold: the runners and the tourists, the giant Amish families and the young couples, the pigeons and the squirrels. A light breeze blew the post-rain smell of petrichor in through the portal. I took a deep breath. I inhaled the fabric of spacetime and exhaled the suffering of all species. I smiled.

It is unclear whether what we call enlightenment is an attainable state for mortal beings. What is clear, though, is that when we find these rare portals through which to immerse ourselves in the full sensory experience of what is currently happening in front of us, around us, and inside of us, we are rewarded with the distinct, visceral sense of a direct connection with God, a divine communion with the pure phenomenology of being. It sure feels like enlightenment.

I decided to step out of the portal. Fortunately, time had been flowing along while I was away, so my friend would be arriving any minute. Refreshed, relaxed, reborn, I met her for a lemonade and had a lovely afternoon.