Today while meditating, something startling happened. I am a perpetual beginner at mediation and I know others say the same thing. We all have a hard time observing, not judging, breathing without our monkey-brain jumping up and down creating a ruckus. One technique is to imagine your thoughts floating on the surface of a river, as you, the observer, try not to direct them, or engage them, but just watch them float.
Today, something else happened. Today, I felt (and I can’t really explain this) for one split second, perhaps even for one microsecond, that the universe accepted me, nodded to me, smiled at me, and approved of who I was, of who I had been and of who I was becoming. It was a just flash: hardly worth writing about actually. It was a flicker, like a shadow that passes, I could no more hold onto it than I could reproduce it.
I just smiled. No one was around. No one noticed. No one could verify if what I had experienced was a moment of bliss, of rightness. As soon as it came, as soon as I could get my lips turned upward in a gentle smile at the grace that was just bestowed upon me, it left and I was left with my brain again scrambling to balance the rest of the day.
I was already busy, back to toting up my hurts and snubs. Back to making a list of the friends and enemies in my life, and how to reward and punish each. In short, the three year old who runs loose in my brain was hard at work, building walls, fortifying boundaries, proclaiming lordship over all he surveyed.
I was back into the primordial darkness of my own personality and it cast a pall like the pre-dawn “iffy” light that makes everything one drained color.
I must learn to love the loneliness of truth seeking. It is not a well-traveled path amid the distractions of daily life. It is a one sided conversation that often resembles those conversations I have with myself in the confessional of my car.
It is easy to demand things of others in an attempt to fill in the gaping hole of my ego - who I think I am, what I believe I deserve – but at the end of the day, knowing even for just a second that I am a part of everything else is heady stuff.
The presence of friends and loved ones is intoxicating enough to want it always, but I need to learn over and over again that I cannot dwell in the love of good fellowship, warm feelings and even love. It is the brokenness of me that wants it all, that creates illusory worlds to manipulate what is real. When I am satisfied, the three year old is satisfied.
Acknowledge and appreciate the love in me. Acknowledge and appreciate the love in the other. And on those wonderful times when food can be dragged into the equation, we should feed each other. That is all.
I must share who I am with others out of the poverty of my life as well as my abundance, from my broken as well as my whole pieces. Then I must simply let and observe the three year old wreak havoc: the one who demands that everything be static; the one who wants to be exclusive, cruel and mean; the one that ultimately inflates the swollen puffiness of my silly and bulbous ego.
This is the child who wants to box up the universe into me, alone; to deny the expansive beauty of something that is not owned, is not bordered, is not controlled like a universe that holds you and me in the palm of its hand and every so often nods at us in approval at who we are, even if we don’t feel worthy.