The day is rainy and cold, and I am on my way to the hospital.

This time I take the bus since the window of my car is being fixed. It has been a while since I have traveled by bus. It gives me the welcome opportunity to lean back and to gaze out of the window... images passing by without my involvement.

The rain patters on the window. I am caught by the little rain-rivers on the window; seemingly unaware of each other's existence. The moment they meet, they merge together in an instant.... getting bigger and fuller as they meet other rivers... The broader they become... the faster the flow...

I am fascinated by the splendor of this playful dance... and taken into the union as the rain itself.

On my way out of the huge hospital building, I need to find my way to the bus stop. On asking, a friendly man is eager to help me out: "Take the lift on the left, push the button that says "bus" and there you are." I hardly notice that I am the only one who steps into that lift, but I do notice the muddy floor of the tiny space. Well of course it is raining and many people went in and out already today; that dirty condition is unavoidable on a rainy day like this. I push the button that says "bus" and lean peacefully back against the wall... simply and silently flowing with life itself. It must have been a while when I notice that the lift is not moving anymore, and the doors are still closed. Looking around I do not see any sign of which floor I am on. After pushing the buttons one by one, nothing seems to happen. One button says "bell", so I push that one. A voice from the ceiling asks loudly: "Yes, can I help you?" "Well, I don't know," I reply, "but the lift seems to be not moving and going nowhere, and there is no way to exit". "On what floor are you?" "I don't know," is my answer. "Please wait," the voice speaks, "we will send someone." This, I think, is a very adequate and comforting answer. Again I notice the mud on the floor, take my coat off, spread it on the floor and sit. It may take a while, I think.

In my private steel Zen-do, the moment I sit, I disappear. Silence remains.

The first sign of a world existing comes from above. "Is there someone in here?" In a flash I understand that the world needs an answer. "Yes." I say, and fall back into the silence of where I came from.

I am slightly aware of being sometimes a bit moved upwards, and sometimes the movement seems to be downwards. Nothing disturbs the sacredness of the Zen-do really. I am in peace.

When the doors suddenly open, I get up, pick up my coat and walk out...

"Hey, Madam, how long have you been stuck?"

Oh, someone must be speaking to me. I must be visible and existent in their perception, I realize. I turn around and look into the eyes of two mechanics standing at the lift door, staring at me in obviously great wonder.

My voice sounds like a whisper when I say, "I don't know,"

... and continue the way... seemingly back into the river of life...

Have I ever really been stuck?