It’s like digging a well every
morning. I breathe my way down through layers of restlessness, distracted focus, speedy thinking and 50 other kinds of discomfort.
Sometimes this takes two minutes. Sometimes the entire practice is
the digging, although the digging is more like continued letting go.
On the other end of this letting go is a huge
opening which I sort of fall into (this may be different for each of
us) as though I have traveled through a wormhole to some other place.
The great joke is that by the time I
arrive there, I understand–no, I know–that I am actually
here, that I have arrived back home. That, in fact, I never left, but was a bit distracted by my mind waving its frantic hands in front
of my eyes.
The beauty of this is that every
morning, or most mornings, I spend time in the hugeness of what I really am, or Love, Truth, Heaven, Joy, Grace, Silence, Infinite, Whole. Impossible to
put in words, but I keep trying for fear that leaving a blank page
for you won’t do the trick. Perhaps it’s enough to say that these
words point to what we are underneath without wrapping it up too tightly.
Again this sounds woo-woo, but it
isn’t. It is the palpable reality of meditation.
And what if this isn’t your
experience? If you haven’t experienced the huge bliss place?
Then you’re digging. Have a little
faith, just for the short while it takes to meet your resistance on
the way home. Meeting our resistance and being willing to sit with it
rather than run from it is the trip of self-discovery, and we might as well enjoy the
Has this been your experience? Are you
Thanks to yoga for bringing us home
over and over and over. Thanks to you for the conversation,