One night he’s at the rink alone. The ice is almost empty of skaters. The music is good, and soon he’s skating freely, large circles on the ice, completely caught up in the insistent, joyful beat of the music.

He is completely absorbed in the sacrament of the present moment, timelessly unaware of anything but the music, the ice, the swish of skates and the flexing of muscle.

The music changes and the absorption ends.

He hasn’t felt so clean, so free, so alive, for a very long time.