Experiencing Stillness.

I sit down on the cushions I’ve delegated specifically for the activity of meditating. They are nothing special; just a black zafu and a purple yoga bolster. When I reach a state of comfortable, I light His candle; a simple white novena/seven-day candle. I’ve had it for awhile and it seems to be slow in melting down.

When the candle is lit, I pour Him a shot of whiskey at His direction. This time, He nudges me to take a sip and I balk. It seems odd to me drink something intended for a God but, after a moment and a sharper nudge, I relent. I take a tiny sip of the whiskey and it is..awful. I am not someone who enjoys drinking alcohol and He knows it, which, I think, is partially why He insists. Surprisingly, it is my ears that throb and not my throat. They burn for a few moments and it is a bizarre feeling, but I’m pleased to do what pleases Him.

With the ‘business’ out of the way, it’s time for the real meat of the moment. I close my eyes and everything else goes away, or as away as it can be. Sometimes my roommates or upstairs neighbors are noisy, sometimes my phone beeps when I’ve forgotten to silence it. I’ve learned to ignore it and let whatever part of me that notices it slide over it like a speedbump.

Things grow still. I grow still. My head empties and the door to the outside closes and shuts out the worry and stress that I carry with me daily. My voice, my stream of consciousness is still there but I work to quiet that and open myself even more to Him. He says little that I can hear during these times, but I can feel Him there. He is perhaps watching and measuring His boy to see if the metaphorical suit that has been cut will fit yet.

It feels dark like night inside me and there are no stars. This doesn’t feel inherently bad, but it feels like a great void that is waiting to find the right thing to fill it up. I already know the answer to that inevitable question.

It is here, in front of his altar, where I have learned the meaning of stillness. In fact, I’ve never found this measure of stillness before; not in previous meditation experience, not in savasana in yoga, not ever. It’s like the inside of my head has been scooped and deposited elsewhere for the duration of my sit. With the way my brain is, it’s really nice to have that moment of nothingness.

I’m trying to learn how to carry it away from sitting in front of the altar, so I can access that space anytime but that’s harder than it sounds. It’s called a practice for a reason, I suppose.


~ by Alex on October 21, 2012.

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