Which of us has not that special memory, of a place and a time, when we would be sitting totally absorbed, feeling a bliss we were not even aware of, and everything around us seemed right. Was it some Starbucks cafe, outside on a favorite table if the weather was warm, or indoors in some nook and the soft chatter of conversations, amidst aromas of coffee and cake.
You'd have a book in your hand, most likely, something you had searched far and wide, and finally found. It wasn't likely some light reading either, but held, you believed, some knowledge which was vital for you to learn about. Something you had to know, to open a door for yourself, to let yourself into a world you would then see with fresh eyes.
You'd find yourself at this spot each day, or was it in the weekends, if you had a job to go to during the day? Already as you approached the place, your mind would be going over what you had read the day before, and the questions you now had would come tantalizingly up. You knew you held the answer in your hands. You'd take your cup of coffee from the counter person, who smiled in recognition, for you were becoming familiar now. Then you'd walk over to your favorite spot, from where you could see over to some green, some blue as well, of the sky and even of some lake.
The mood would come upon you. As you picked up your coffee cup, no sugar, just black, the bitterness stimulating you, and you'd look at the book that held your answers. A blissful moment, as without opening the pages even, your mind intensified. The chatter in the shop was clearer, but you were not bothered. You wouldn't even have the exact memory, when you picked up the book, when you turned its pages, as snatches of paragraphs, diagrams, formulas wafted past; and you found the exact place where the precious knowledge you wished for, was waiting for you, to be picked up, with the least effort.
When were you reading, and when did your head turn to look into the far distance -- restful to your eyes amongst the green and blue, or just the soothing oldness of ancient grey buildings ? A strange sensation of pleasantness filled you, and you felt yourself transported in the most substantial way. You would not even be the same person you were, before this reading. The words written, spoke gently to you, the words of the author, so knowingly, so firm with a clarity that pierced and shed away the many veils covering it, what he or she was speaking about. You felt then, the power of knowledge. You felt you knew the person talking with you. You felt a desire to linger here as long as you can.