Exactly six years ago I was on the island of Koh Pangang, in Thailand. A friend had recommended that island to me. He had described it as a large playground for adults, depending on or independent of interest.

I had five weeks at my disposal, and I was to dedicate them to yoga. The five weeks disappeared as quickly as time does, and as usual, I brought back a good portion of memories. But there was one story from that trip that made an extra-strong impression on me.

The Yoga Retreat center, where I had my morning and afternoon sessions, was located a short distance outside Haad Salat. A small village on the west side of the island, along a lovely little sandy beach.

For the first few weeks of my stay, I lived almost right on the beach and had to climb a steep hill several times a day to get to Surat Thani, where the Yoga centre was.

One day, walking up to the center, I noticed a scooter on its way down to the village. True, it was not the scooter that caught my attention, nor the woman who drove it, but the sight of a little boy standing upright, holding on to the handlebars. He smiled from ear to ear and whimpered with joy. Can you imagine the scenario, a little boy standing on a scooter rolling at full speed downhill? Adrenaline kick for a boy, I guess.
That was my first meeting with Uriel and his mother. Later I saw them again at the Yoga center, and not long after, Uriel and I had found the tone.

Uriel was no more than 4-5 years old and was on a backpacking trip with his American mother. The mother wanted some quality time with her son before he was going to start at school, and thus they had embarked on a long journey in Asia. On the road, the two of them.

Would I have noticed them if it was not because I had often traveled alone with my son? I do not know, but because of my connection to that little boy, his mother started asking me to watch Uriel while she did some errands alone. At one point, my curiosity took over;

– Was Uriel’s father completely out of the picture?

– Uriel’s father was a Russian troubadour.  I met him while he was on tour in the United States. I became madly in love, and we started traveling around the country together, but one day it was over. We had a car accident, he died instantly, and I ended up in the hospital. During my stay in the hospital, they found out that I was pregnant. That incident had ripped my boyfriend away but left me a part of him. Uriel was his gift to me, she replied.

Later I found out that Uriel was an archangel in the Hebrew tradition, meaning “God is my light.”

Why did this story make such a big impression on me? I’m not sure, but I remember, back then, hearing that story, I was determined to share it one day. Now, entering a new year, I realized it was about time.

I assume this story is a kind of reminder of how fragile and beautiful life can be at the same time. Life is not to be understood many times. We can only live life, and life happens in the moments. Everything happens in the moment of now. The past is gone, and the future not yet here; what we have is the moment of now. And at this moment, we can live and create.

Happy magical 2021. Enjoy the moments or, as Romans used to say, Carpe Diem !!!