I have missed practicing the art of meditation.
Once, not so long ago, I graced myself with its peace and sense of well-being twice daily, reverently, no matter what was going on in my life. Then I dropped off. I don’t remember why I stopped. Sometimes we just get in a rout and fall off into a well of worry about what may never come to pass and the next thing we know, we don’t know if we’re starting or finishing. Seems like we’d get still and realize that it is in those hectic times that we should seek inner peace on autopilot. But we don’t. So life has to whop us, rewind us, pause us.
Thank goodness I’m back on point, though. I feel at peace. For the past month or so, I’ve been sitting in a yoga position, legs crossed, torso straight, palms usually face up and open to receive all the blessings that life has for me. I close my eyes. And turn off the lights and even shut the blinds to cancel as much daylight as possible in the morning. If I don’t, my eyelids go into a wiggle-jiggly dance that makes me want to lower my head into the palm of my hands and carry on. Yet I persist. Eventually the wiggle-jiggle ceases when I relax and give it leave to do whatever because I’m going to stay with it. Now if something is standing in the middle of my thoughts, up-ending me, my eyelids shimmy and shake then, too. And I do that same thing: allow the situation to be as it is. No judgement.
My thoughts skate. At times, I follow them and totally forget I am meditating. When I catch myself, I lovingly bring my center back to the calming darkness behind my closed lids. Where the darkness seems to brighten, sometimes, and shift into shapes and swirling patterns. Universal pageantry, I guess, a wonder consisting, as they say, of all the splendor of the Universe, right there inside of us all, if only we could stop to plug ourselves in.
Momentarily, after I finish typing this post, I’m going to make like an appliance and plug myself into the outlet that is Source. I’m grateful! I’ve had a blissful day, editing my narrative for my To Honor the Heart anthology. Just like that, I lost track of time and edited all day, rising to chat with my sisters, eat or stretch my limbs. The zone is what I call it, and that is a sacred place for us creators. Wait. We are ALL creators, creating something, whether it is art, music, literature, little people, rules, politics, muscles, orchards, cars or mess. And the list is inexhaustible.
Anyway, I felt accomplished.
I finished a major round of edits, reading quietly and aloud, combing the twenty-four pages diligently, proudly. Sent the well-stroked draft to several beloveds from whom I want feedback. Prepared myself wholesome meals. And cleaned the kitchen.
I want to go empty now, because there is nothing more delicious than being rejuvenated. Meditation brings me up close and personal with Awareness. In it, at those still moments when my thoughts run void of their sabotaging power, I shiver in the joy of that Awareness, and all over again, I remember who I really AM.
Beside me, to the left of this laptop, is a sheet of yellow Stuart Hall Executive Steno paper. On it, from a few years back, in my scrawl, is the paragraph:
“When life catapulted me into an accident on Hwy 85, I noticed an influx of joy or inner peace that thrust me into the position of The Observer with an Awareness that shut down thought. In the peace, I understood that a Higher Presence, a divine power, had taken over.”
To the man on the shoulder of the highway standing outside his work truck, a vehicle I had hit, I was in trouble. Each time my Jag made a revolution, we held the other’s gaze. Inside my car, an Awareness soothed me and tacitly told me not to focus on the oncoming rush-hour traffic. Whispered to me in the language of feeling to turn the wheel to the left and tap the brakes. I was at peace, fully alert, aware of the movie playing out before my eyes. Awareness was in control, and I was along for the ride.
Heaven was in my black Jag. Heaven was in the watching man’s heart, for he told me when I finally stepped out of the car, “I wished I could take your place. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” Heaven was in the knowing that no one was killed or hurt in that occurrence. Heaven was in the state trooper’s disbelieving eyes, when he asked me to tell him what happened one more time. And Heaven was in my beloved passenger and my enjoyable trip that weekend.
Am heading off to meditate. May you always know that Heaven is not a destination in the clouds. It is wherever you are, within. Meditate. Meditate more. And luxuriate in consciousness…
Love & Light