Night out

The strobe lights, flashes of lightning and coloured spotlights were dazzling, were blinding. I could feel the dancefloor vibrate, tremble like the earth was shaking beneath our feet. Boys, men and the sporadic girls danced, their bodies moving to the beat and rhythm of the ear-popping techno mixes of the latest and of classic pop songs. Friday night out in a dance club.

The alcohol was oozing in my veins, and I was sweaty from dancing. My friends danced around me, and around us there were scores more of people. Some holding their (dance) partner close, others tonguing and licking the sweat and lust from one another's cheeks and lips. On the gigantic screen was a black and white behind-the-scenes documentary on male porn stars posing in front of the camera. There was sex in the air, in the drinks, in the minds of everyone who crowded the dancefloor, and who sat idly and watched from the barstools.

I had fun, that I cannot deny. But there was something missing. My mind, a wanderer as it is, wandered even more on that dancefloor as I moved and shook my body and arms. Wandering off to a quiet moment alone with someone close, wandering off to a week from now, when I'll be in the peace and quiet of the monastery as I begin my 10day meditation retreat. My mind wandered also into the realm of fantasy... to daydream about what-might-be of imaginary scenarios with someone I've recently met, and with whom I felt a great connection.

Back on the dancefloor, every one seemed lost. Lost in the ecstasy of the free flowing body movements, lost in the trance of musical beats and lyrics that teased. Lost in lust, lost in love, lost in longing. Lost, and all seemingly wanting to find something, to hold on to it, to treasure it, even if it is only for a fleeting moment.

For that is how it is with going out. To loose oneself, so that one can find oneself or another. Only to loose oneself again, perhaps not too soon after.