I have six unretrieved voicemails on my phone. This is a new thing for me. Not that friends didn't leave messages before--they left plenty. The perplexing development is my comfort at letting the voicemails sit, unlistened to, with the glaring red '6' staring up from my phone. Is this a minute consequence of my new spiritual self? As If I am saying, "Hi, Six. I am fine with your existence, and no, I don't need to diminish you in order to return to the natural balance of zero voicemails." Hmmm.
***
Sitting on the floor in front of present Buddha, right ankle over left knee (mine not his), I tapped into something. I didn't mean to; I was pretty new to this, after all. But that's how meditation works--once you resign yourself to non-intention, the intention arrives. And so it did: one phrase at a time, floating into my head. I can still feel them sailing in, words strung together with the urgency of desperate need and the calmness of having known them all along. Live through love. Without judgment. Open to suffering. Offering Compassion. With Balance, Trust. Hold the Center.
Following the breath. In through the nose, down to the belly, out through the nose, emptying every cell. Sparing no sound, stilling the mind. Life simplified to breath, breath fueling spirit, spirit giving life. In and out.
After two weeks of practice, reentry to the Western world--to my life--presented the very real possibility that I would lose the coordinates, the intention of nonintention. That the tapped well of peace would seal off when not nurtured by daily meditation. My sangha (Buddhist word for spiritual community, in my case 18 beloved pilgrims) was disbanding, and who in my normal world would ever understand this journey? I had lived a full life in two weeks' time, a glitch in the continuum of my sentient being. But I tried...
"I discovered another dimension of myself"
"It was like living on a different plain of existence"
"I tapped into a deep source of inner tranquility"
Was I making sense? Did I sound crazy? Or worse, like I could be exaggerating? Did it matter, so long as I knew it all to be true? Even if the words hardly touch the expanse of experience?
Of course, much of my reentry anxiety was unmerited. My world is filled with more understanding than I ever expected. It turns out my sangha is not just those who I traveled with (though they remain my core), but also the friends and loved ones who have been with me all along. For that, I am so thankful.
But then, there are the voicemails. Untouched and waiting for response. I'll get there, six. In the meantime, I know you understand.
Stay tuned for my next post on cocktails with Tony Blair and travels to Lima and Bogota...
***
Sitting on the floor in front of present Buddha, right ankle over left knee (mine not his), I tapped into something. I didn't mean to; I was pretty new to this, after all. But that's how meditation works--once you resign yourself to non-intention, the intention arrives. And so it did: one phrase at a time, floating into my head. I can still feel them sailing in, words strung together with the urgency of desperate need and the calmness of having known them all along. Live through love. Without judgment. Open to suffering. Offering Compassion. With Balance, Trust. Hold the Center.
Following the breath. In through the nose, down to the belly, out through the nose, emptying every cell. Sparing no sound, stilling the mind. Life simplified to breath, breath fueling spirit, spirit giving life. In and out.
After two weeks of practice, reentry to the Western world--to my life--presented the very real possibility that I would lose the coordinates, the intention of nonintention. That the tapped well of peace would seal off when not nurtured by daily meditation. My sangha (Buddhist word for spiritual community, in my case 18 beloved pilgrims) was disbanding, and who in my normal world would ever understand this journey? I had lived a full life in two weeks' time, a glitch in the continuum of my sentient being. But I tried...
"I discovered another dimension of myself"
"It was like living on a different plain of existence"
"I tapped into a deep source of inner tranquility"
Was I making sense? Did I sound crazy? Or worse, like I could be exaggerating? Did it matter, so long as I knew it all to be true? Even if the words hardly touch the expanse of experience?
Of course, much of my reentry anxiety was unmerited. My world is filled with more understanding than I ever expected. It turns out my sangha is not just those who I traveled with (though they remain my core), but also the friends and loved ones who have been with me all along. For that, I am so thankful.
But then, there are the voicemails. Untouched and waiting for response. I'll get there, six. In the meantime, I know you understand.
Stay tuned for my next post on cocktails with Tony Blair and travels to Lima and Bogota...
Totally recentered just from reading this :) Thx for being such a shining light!
ReplyDeleteI am so grateful to you. You are following your inner guidance in starting this blog. We will all be changed by it. Thank you, Caro. xox
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