A post from the blog www.blissanddrumming.com, read by Clementine.

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How can the loss of the Self equal happiness if what I do and whom I love is what makes me happy? How can drumming make me so happy and yet be wrong?

Then, I was at my second 10-day meditation retreat in the golden plains West of Dallas, and it was the seventh day. I was falling deeper into the center of myself, and as I did my pores opened and I started breathing out of my skin, becoming more and more insubstantial. A bird outside the window sang a song and the song blew through me like a breeze. The Self fell away. Only Bliss was there.

If I could say I lived in that space always, I would be a Buddha. I would have come home to the light of that honeysuckle. I’d probably never eat a donut again. Instead, I’m a rock drummer. Those few seconds of enlightenment shine like a small pinprick of light on a dark and noisy stage.