“It is only when we know that our time is limited that we begin to appreciate the value of each day.” ~Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
I did not expect this journey to start as it did.
In December 2003, I decided to take a Christmas break. I booked a nature tour of Sri Lanka, traveling around the country and staying in different locations. It is something I have been waiting for for a long time.
But during the Christmas flight, I started to feel unwell. At first I thought it was just a stomach problem. There is nothing strange when traveling. But the discomfort turned into something more serious. I started to feel a lot of pain in my lower back.
As we landed, I realized something was wrong. I did it to the first hotel where the doctor called. I remember him lying there, trying not to disturb me like he was checking on me. The diagnosis is a serious kidney infection. I was given a lot of painkillers and told to rest.
It’s Christmas. Not the start I imagined.
My room is a small bungalow by the sea. I could hear other vacationers outside enjoying themselves as I slept in a dark room trying to get through the pain.
The next morning a banknote fell under my door, the tour was about to begin that day, but because I was so sick, the hotel manager agreed that I could stay back and recover.
The idea of missing a trip did not go well with me. I came all the way and I did not dare to sleep in the room while the others left. So I decided to go.
I took the pill with me and told myself I would manage.
Looking back, it does not understand that something important is happening. No warning. I do not feel that this decision weighs more than whether I will enjoy the trip or not. I just do not want to miss.
We left the hotel and headed for the mainland, starting the first part of the tour. It was not until the next day that something happened.
We saw the news video on TV, but it was in a foreign language and difficult to understand. There was a picture of water destruction, chaos – something about a tsunami.
Our tour guide told us it was Thailand. That is partly true. In the past few days, a lot of information has started to appear.
At that time, only a few people on the tour had cell phones. They begin to receive vague messages, but enough to cause concern. They were both told they were listed as “missing”. It does not make sense.
Then I called a friend back to England. She answered the phone with tears in her eyes. She continued, “Thank God… Thank God.”
At first I did not understand.
And then it became clear. People believe we are dead. The hotel we stayed at — the hotel we left that morning — was flooded.
The magnitude of what happened is still unknown, but the facts are already there. We used to be there at the time, and for reasons that felt completely normal, we were no longer there.
There were no surprises. It is simply a matter of quietly realizing that things can be different.
When our family can prove that we are safe, the stress is immediately relieved.
We later asked to be taken to the affected areas. It was closer than we expected.
The rest of the journey took place in a different voice after that. As a team, we did what we could to help as much as possible. It does not feel much in the context of everything that has happened, but feels important to try.
When I returned home, I was not ready for that reaction.
Messages, phone calls, the number of people who are worried – it is overwhelming. People I have not spoken to over the years have been following the news, trying to figure out if we are okay.
It was an emotional time, but not as I expected.
What was with me was not just what happened – it was how many people cared.
I really never stopped thinking about that before.
Life went on as simple as it’s tended to do. But being even short on the other side of the story – the fact that people think they might be lost – brings a different perspective.
It changed something. Not immediately, but enough. Over time, that change becomes more noticeable.
I began to look at things differently – what was important, where I cared, what was important and what was not. I found myself pulling in to help in ways I never thought possible.
That ultimately led me to spend time in Southeast Asia volunteering and working with communities in Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. At one point, I was invited to stay and work at a Buddhist pagoda to support blind students.
There was not a single time I decided to change direction. It is quieter than that. A gradual turn is more than a sudden jump.
Looking back now, I think of how it started. Not with tsunamis. But with the disease I do not want. The inconvenience I was trying to get through. Things that feel like it is getting in the way.
At the time, it was something to do around something to ignore.
I do not try to explain what happened. I do not feel the need to give meaning or conclusions to it, but I see it differently now.
Not everything that bothers us is against us.
Not everything that feels like a problem is actually one.
And not everything is important, self-proclaimed in a way that we immediately recognize.
That journey began in the way I resisted.
It unfolds in a way I do not understand.
And it left something I did not expect.
I still wonder how close it is. But more than that, I think about what happened and I can easily miss it.
About Neil Burgess
Neil Burgess is an Akashic Records reader and teacher with over 30 years of experience working with people from around the world. His work focuses on helping individuals gain clarity and a local and practical perspective. After a life-changing experience in Sri Lanka in 2003, Neil went on to spend more time working with monks in Southeast Asia and finding more purpose-oriented directions. Watch him at globalakasha.com. And learn about Get Akashic Records Read Here.
