Unity. It seems to me that most people are seeking unity: some with their God, some with their spouse, some with themselves. I would hazard a guess that there are some who don’t even know that they are searching.
I came to the realization that there was such a thing as unity when I was in my late teens, while sailing. I had a little Sunfish sailboat. It was small and relatively fast.
One windy day, I was hiking out, my body parallel to the water, my head just inches above the surface of the lake. I could feel the wind. I could feel the water. The boat (her name was Windseeker) was an extension of myself, or I was an extension of the boat. I couldn’t tell where I ended, and where the boat, the wind, and the water began. Unity. The feeling was fleeting; it would come and go, but it was the most peaceful feeling I had ever experienced.
I have had several boats since. The sense of unity seems to happen only when the boat is small and fast, minimizing the interface between myself and nature.
I’ve heard people describe experiencing unity when they are skiing or running or riding a horse. Some feel it when they see their child sleeping peacefully, some when they are making love, some when they are meditating.
To paraphrase a Japanese maxim, “When you seek it, you cannot find it.” Unity cannot be forced, or willed into occurring. It must just happen, which makes it all the more elusive and enticing.