Tuesday, April 20, 2010


I settle crouched over in the bathtub in humility as though I'm ready to receive a blessing. The water is warm on my back--the light from the flame emanating through the curtain, soothing. This alone is almost enough.

I reside in the centre of myself, present and aware. I feel single droplets of water trickling down my neck, softly, gently, like tiny kisses. My ears perk up. The sound of the water becomes music--I sense the pattern of movement, the time signature of the piece.

Then I feel a breeze, like a hiccup, coming at me from my left, my right, and above. I take a deep breath. Now, I can't stop taking deep breaths. I don't understand where he comes up with the notion that I need to get in touch with my feelings, that I need to reflect and dig deeper, to be quiet and still. He must not know me, doesn't read me correctly, is blind to what I am.

If I dig any deeper, I'll just lose myself in the pit. So he says, And then you'll find your way out... I guess I ought to feel proud, of my potential strength to overcome. He doesn't realize the pit and I have an established relationship. And I don't feel like talking so I keep my mouth shut while my mind rambles on and on and on.

Then I move to that place again and use the sword as my focal point. I've had so much practice, you'd think I would have cleared the cobwebs by now, dissected my thoughts with enough precision to allow the sun to pierce through the clouds, but no. Then it dawns on me. I can't hear what my heart is saying because it's shrouded, burdened and consumed by thought.

Now I feel like a child--young and naive, immature and stupid. I hear Mick Jagger. I want this whole thing painted black. Give me a paint brush and let me do what I will with it. Let me begin anew, to dissolve and be transformed. I want another chance. And he says, Time is now.

But I resist. I resist what I want because it's too important, because there's too much gravity in presence. I should be smiling, should be welcoming risk. You won't believe the synchronicities I've been experiencing. So I let the water do what it does best--calm the nerves and still the mind. As I settle, I remember the words of my spiritual teacher, as though they were meant just for me, When your heart is open, you will never be bored.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

... the unbearable lightness of being.

another wonderful one!