Saturday, September 12, 2009

Nothing terribly profound

Thanks to Steven Curtis Chapman for the title. Just the artist making a quick, rough sketch of something. What form will it take? What is waiting in this unshaped rock to be exposed by a well-placed chisel?

Meditation invites emptiness, silence. When there is this increasing space within, many things become possible. God, most of all. God is subtle. He does not typically bang down the door but stands and waits. This description is probably not Buddhist, by the way. Buddhism does not quite embrace God as a separate, supernatural being. But as I am a relative stranger to Buddhism, I hedge my bets here.

I probably fail to comprehend Buddhism's insistence on being apart from all emotions, positive or negative. I think life is difficult enough that joy deserves to be entered into completely, without reservations, when it surfaces.

My dog brought me joy today when she came and gave a gentle tap on my elbow with her wet nose, just checking in while I sat in meditative pose. Dogs are wonderful at bringing that quick, delightful energy of joy. I delight in hearing the signs of life around me while I meditate. Not mosquitos buzzing, mind you, which Gil mentions as a potential meditative object for monks who sit outdoors in Eastern countries. I refer to my indoor pets, Scout and Mimi, and the birdsong from outside that I generally can hear.

Meditation takes us back to a more childlike state where we are completely in the present moment. That is why children are so close to God and so precious. They live naturally, exuberantly here and now. As Andrew says, growing up does not look like a lot of fun compared to that!

Most grownups take on so many cares and worries. Once people become aware of all the problems in the world, it is hard to let them go. Although, lots of people I see create so many problems of their own making that they just don't have time for all the real issues out there. It seems like everyone ought to be carrying the real problems around. Jesus did say, "bear my cross," didn't he? He also said that he came that we might live life to the fullest measure. So which one is it, anyhow? Can I put that heavy thing down for a minute so I can live life fully?

I feel heavy in my own body after meditation. Grounded, in gravity. I feel as though I am attached to the entire Earth and nothing could move me from this place where I sit. I physically slow down. I couldn't possibly do anything quickly, within a few minutes of meditating. I am grooving on Andrew time, for a little while. I am like the surfer turtle in Nemo, riding a current, Duuuude! Duuuude! (Sorry, can't think of his name. It's a quick one-syllable bite of a name.)

The thoughts are harder to tame. They are like the hummingbirds I often hear. They flit around for a while, before perhaps settling down or fading to the background. That part is hard for me, the great thinker.

I have a dream to relate, in another post. Oh, goody! Something to look forward to!

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