Seeing Clearly

At the end of January and beginning of February, I completed 10 days of silence. No phone, no music, no distractions, just silence and myself.

It was an experience I will never forget. A place, not physical, but internal, within my heart and mind, that I still return to. The stillness. The peace. Our natural state. It is all I crave these days.

I would like to share a journal entry about one of my experiences and lessons while I was there. I hope you enjoy it.

Seeing Clearly

Sitting in meditation can be uncomfortable. Shifting from a busy life of go, go, go into stillness is a huge adjustment. At least it was for me. I stayed at the meditation center for 10 days, and the first few days were the most difficult. I attempted to find the perfect seated position, one I could hold for an hour without moving. I thought I needed to find a position that would allow my mind to stay focused.

The joke was on me. I learned very quickly that you cannot do anything externally to shift something internally.

The issue was not my body. My body did just fine when I told it to hold still. It was my mind that could not stop racing.

My assignment during meditation was to focus on the sensations in my body. After a while, my body became very still, and as I focused on my breath, the tension in my body grew louder. My awareness would scan the areas of tension, and as I held my attention on the pain, the tingling moving through my leg and into my arms, the sensations my awareness picked up on transformed into memories in my mind’s eye.  I could see the memories and images that the body stored and that the pain revealed.  

I found myself following the instructions given by our teacher. Observe it. Do nothing but observe.

I would observe the sensation until it ceased. I would observe the memory until the scene ended.

Doing this for an hour at a time, one would think it would become overwhelming or exhausting. The truth is, I could not wait to go back into that deep state. I looked forward to each meditation. What else could I uncover? I was curious.

As the silence deepened, so did my awareness.

Although I had a positive outlook going into each meditation, it didn't make settling in any easier.  I would get agitated and look at the clock. How much longer do I have to sit here?

It was strange because although I had a desire to dig deep, the discomfort of sitting with myself in silence called on a part of my being that I had very little experience with. Did I really want to confront what was arising, or was I just telling myself that because I wanted to see myself as brave?

Looking back, I see this as the dual nature of being human. We have the loving, light filled parts of ourselves and the ego driven, intellectual side constantly attempting to occupy our mental space. It was a battle during every sitting. Which side would win?

It was not something I had control over. I was powerless to what would come up or how I would feel. I could do nothing but observe, as instructed.

As the days went on, sitting became more familiar. My intellect and ego knew what to expect, so they surrendered their occupancy of my mind more easily over time. Slowly, gently, quiet peace would creep in, and I would once again gain access to the deep dark space that felt vast, endless, and complete all at the same time.

I began to see myself in more subtle ways each time I returned to sitting meditation.

I noticed that after the first 30 minutes, I would have the urge to adjust my body and look at the clock. As I became aware of this habit, I found myself sitting through the desire to fidget and check the time.

Just sit and observe. You can do this. Sit. Breathe. Observe.

I felt like a three year old trying to carry a glass of water across the room without spilling it. A task that seems so easy for an adult, yet so difficult for a toddler still learning coordination.

Breathe. Focus. Is my body starting to sweat? Oh my gosh, it is. That is weird. Focus. Breathe. Do not move. Observe.

I kept breathing steadily. I wanted to move so badly. But like every other sensation, that desire eventually passed.

And when it did, BOOM.

I reached a threshold.

After overcoming the difficulty of sitting still, my mind reached a level of tranquility it had previously  been unable to attain before. I felt weightless, timeless, floating. It felt as though space had been created inside my body and mind.

My awareness and sensitivity increased. If I focused on something, a thought or a body part, I could feel it, understand it, and see it in a way I had never been attuned to before.

Just sit and observe.

I found myself focusing on my breath again, and as I surrendered to my breath and the stillness, a darkness came over my eyes. My eyes were already closed, so the fact that it became darker is beyond me, but I went somewhere. My consciousness went deep into the most vulnerable, hidden place within me, and I could see pieces of myself being revealed.

I saw the most precious and hidden parts of myself. My fears, the ones I never wanted revealed, bubbled to the surface.

These sittings became some of the most intimate moments I had ever shared with myself.

I saw myself as a child carrying a tremendous amount of guilt and shame. I could see how, as a child, I had been made responsible for the well being of my siblings. If they got hurt or something happened to them, it would be my fault. I was responsible.

I saw this little girl carrying so much, and I realized I had carried it into adulthood.

I could finally see those feelings and behaviors for what they were, burdens.

As an adult, I continued making myself responsible for everything. I did it at work by making sure everything was completed exactly as I saw fit. I did it at home too. If my home was not up to par, I believed I was responsible for the chaos within it and would find reasons to make myself feel guilty.

It was never my intention to carry these responsibilities. I was doing it unknowingly.

What these meditations were doing was bringing my unconscious actions and thoughts into my conscious awareness.

When I understood this, I felt a warm tear roll down my face. Heat and warmth spread through my body, followed by a cooling sensation. Something released and I became more relaxed.

What a weight she had carried.

My body and mind were flooded with love and compassion for the little girl and the woman I am today.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The meditation bell rang, signaling that the hour had concluded.

That is it? It has already been an hour?

The meditation felt timeless.

Although my mind had gone somewhere, my body had not. My legs felt numb, my back stiff, and my arms heavy. I stretched my arms over my head, extended my legs long, curled my toes, and took a deep breath, the kind of deep stretch you take first thing in the morning.

I left my meditation cushion and walked toward the door feeling light and refreshed.

As I felt the breeze on my face and stared at the sky and trees, I felt in sync with all that is. I paused for a moment because I could feel the universal force that moves through all things and beings moving through me too.

There was something inside me that KNEW. It was an unexplainable feeling of certainty.

I knew what I was meant to do.

One of those things is writing.

That is what I am doing today, in this very moment. I am remembering what I am meant to do and doing it.

I smiled as I felt the sun on my face and body. I felt gratitude. My eyes felt wide open.

I was seeing clearly, or at least more clearly than before.

I understand now that I had reached a place of stillness that allowed me to connect with something greater than myself. That place feels beyond words, and even thinking about it fills my eyes with tears.

It is a place that feels like home. So familiar, yet so easy to forget as we move through our daily lives as humans.

And maybe that is okay.

I believe we come to Earth to forget, so that we may experience the joy, awe, and euphoria of remembering.

The work I do now is to stay as close to that divinity as I can throughout the day. When I drift too far from love, the pain I feel guides me back. It is my signal to remember that we are all human, living within the shared condition of pain and suffering.

These days, when I feel that hard to swallow lump in my throat, or the uncomfortable feeling of disgust, shame, or guilt in my stomach, I remind myself:

I am not in control here. I am simply experiencing it.

Observe the feeling. Surrender to it. Let it pass. Breathe.

This does not define you.

This is simply an experience.

And if you can love yourself through this moment, and if you can muster, even if it's just an attempt to love yourself through the ugly and shameful, then you are that much closer to feeling and remembering that you are ALWAYS connected with all that is - LOVE. As a matter of fact we are all an expression of love itself. Try to remember, and when you forget it, try to remember again.