This morning I rose, fed kitties, sat down to meditate. Bella came and sat down on her blanket next to me. For her, meditation means petting and kissing and she returns the gift by licking me. Bella sees living as reciprocal; she always gives back.
Finally we settle, Bella and I, and come to rest. I feel how deeply in this moment I have nothing to do and nowhere to go. That settling falls through me. I rise in response, a spring, motion, movement, process, though I appear still as a mountain, or do I? Thoughts pop in – are mountains still?
My lids close over my eyes, gently, tenderly. After awhile, still covered, the balls of the eyes shift, gently, tenderly, right, then, left. I’m by the window and feel the coming of light.
I allow the lids of my eyes, the center of my head, to rest and rise as gently and tenderly as the coming of the light. All is ease. Might I keep this as I move through the day?
My teacher of Sensory Awareness, Charlotte Selver, would bring us to a state of bliss, and then, say, “Forget it!” I didn’t want to forget it, wanted to hold on, but now, I’ve learned, release, and something new comes, so I release as the light meets the sky, meeting me, touching, digesting, through and through.
Pittosporum offers scent to air.