I had a wonderful talk with my beloved shortly before my departure for Motovun. I was quiet most of the time, but she talked and talked with real passion. And she explained to me in no uncertain terms that I was living through my renaissance. Lamb on the spit. Guinness. Lots of money by any local standards. Life without fear of crime. The love of my life. A wonderful house in a charming place. Excellent health. No dependents to worry about. Cigars of the best quality. Grilled fish. Cheap wine of reasonable quality. Rid at last from all the bitches of this world. No work whatsoever. Plenty of time for writing. All together, she reckoned, I was lucky beyond belief. I had not had it so good since my childhood. In short, true renaissance. Amazingly, I kept mum through most of my beloved’s argument. Indeed, I was mesmerized by it. Perhaps the only problem I could see with her foray is that she was worried about me. That was obvious enough. She was worried about my burning anger and draining gloom. Whence her valiant attempt to cheer me up before my departure.

Addendum (August 17, 2016)

A bit more than four years later, I do not remember my beloved’s pep talk at all. Alas, not a word of it rings any bell! Having stumbled upon this piece entirely by chance, I read it three times over. With the exception of cigars, which I have abandoned for good, all the items listed are very much to my liking to this day. My renaissance in so many words. But there is something that is surprisingly missing from the list: my practice of yoga. Idiosyncratic as it is, it is still a full-blown practice. So many years later, I cannot imagine my life without yoga. Crowned by liberation early this year, it is at the very core of my being. Actually, my renaissance is entirely unimaginable without it. Rereading this piece, the absence of yoga confounds me over and over again. The best I can make of my beloved’s glaring omission is that I rarely mention yoga to her, let alone liberation as its goal. Indeed, my renaissance is a closely kept secret of mine. Although I write about it quite a lot, I keep my mouth shut about it most of the time. Which is perhaps why I have forgotten about my beloved’s pep talk about my renaissance.