Image shows dappled sunlight on a grey stone wall with sharp green lichen (or moss)
The most simple thing can be a doorway into meditation. On my walk this morning, I was captivated by the unexpected green for this time of year , and the way the light was landing on this stone wall. I took the time to receive this beauty, and felt myself going into the beautiful relaxed awareness of meditation.
Your meditation can be as unique as you are, and may be different every time. Being open to allowing the experience to unfold, you begin to see doorways everywhere, and develop a deeper connection and appreciation for all that is around and within you.
This is the way of Instinctive Meditation®- meditation for modern humans.
Image shows a mountain stream with rocks and fallen trees. In this distance are trees and a sunny sky.
“Through me course wide rivers and in me rise tall mountains. And beyond the thickets of my agitation and confusion there stretch the wide pains of my peace and surrender. All landscapes are within me. And there is room for everything.” Etty Hillesum.
This passage is so evocative of Instinctive Meditation® to me. In this practice, we welcome all aspects of ourselves- the wild, the serene, the playful, the contemplative. The mind is allowed to go on an adventure. It may roam around for awhile, and it may eventually settle into a state of apparent stillness and calm. Find a deeper connection within, as well as the outer world.
This is the way of meditation for modern people. Won’t you join me?
The other day I was talking with a friend, and they mentioned another friend who was holding on to ways of being that were no longer serving them and weighing them down. I gently told my friend that some of what they were dealing with was beyond the scope of friendship (i.e. a good time to bring in a mental health professional), and at times the best we can do is be a witness to someone else’s journey. And then I said:
“It’s like they have a bunch of rocks in their pocket! It’s like they’ve collected all these rocks of experience and habits over the years, put them in their pocket, and won’t get rid of them.”
We went on to talk about how sometimes it’s so challenging to release habits and ways of thinking that really aren’t doing us any good. Rocks in a pocket is a good analogy. Some are pretty and nice to take out to look at now and then, some get annoying and poke us, and others bunch together and take up space we could use for something else, weighing us down and slowing our journey.
I suggested it could be an interesting exercise to go out on a walk, collect rocks, or find some near a lakeshore or creek edge. Hold each rock, name what it represents, say what you’re making room for, and send the rock sailing into the water (being mindful of any nearby living things). Water is so purifying, and it would be satisfying to watch the ripples as the water settled back into calm.
My friend said it could be cool to do it on a hike and throw rocks into a canyon, to which I replied… you’d want to be sure no one was down below so you don’t bonk someone on the head with your troubles (i.e. transfer your burdens on to someone else).
If you’re not able to get somewhere to empty your pocket of rocks, I suppose you could write things on paper and burn them (be safe!), or as an acquaintance did years ago, put on some goggles and smash garage sale dishes in your basement, naming what each item represented. That person ended up making mosaics with all the broken bits! Some cities have rage rooms, where for a fee you can go smash stuff.
But there’s nothing quite so satisfying as flinging a rock with all your might, and watching it disappear into the water.
William Woodward’s “Biloxi Art Pottery,” 1890s. Oil painting. Collection of the Biloxi Public Library. Image is a painting of a bearded man wearing a hat, with his sleeves rolled up and making a pot on a potter’s wheel. In the background are windows, and another man in the back of the studio working.
The open door caught my attention first as I walked by. With curiosity, I slowed down, and then to a stop. Sunlight streamed in and highlighted the kiln, which gave off a sense of heat. Stacks of pottery in organized chaos were laid out on a board nearby. In the back of the studio, behind a counter was a person working on a pot, The way their work light illuminated them, and the way they were wearing their knitted hat, took the whole scene out of time, if it weren’t for the modern kiln. I had come across a living chiaroscuro painting. It felt like magic.
The artist sensed me, and a hesitation came across their face. I moved on, glad I hadn’t followed my reflex to take out my phone and take a picture. Back before there were cameras in portable phones, I rarely took pictures. For me, it felt like I could either have the experience, or be an observers and document what was going on, but not feel like part of what was going on.
A few moments later, and down the road, a silver flash revealed someone sitting on their porch, playing the banjo. The person’s face had an expression of relaxed absorption in the moment. I walked down the sidewalk a ways, took out my phone, pointed it to the sidewalk and away from the person to record the sound, and they stopped playing. Right away I hoped they were simply pausing and that I hadn’t interrupted them, even with the distance. Porches are made for sitting on and playing music.
Sitting here now, I’m amazed how much detail my mind caught of the potter’s studio. The lighting, the colour palette, the whole energy of the scene. I credit it in part to the ease of my meditative practice. I find more and more how quickly I can enter a state of relaxed awareness and more fully experience where I am, or what I am doing. Or being. I’m so grateful to have found a way to more deeply connect my inner and outer worlds in a way that doesn’t require anything of me other that being open to follow where the essence of life leads. The open door caught my attention first as I walked by. With human curiosity I slowed down, and then to a stop. Sunlight streamed in and highlighted the kiln, which gave off a sense of heat. Stacks of pottery in organized chaos were laid out on a board nearby. In the back of the studio, behind a counter was a person working on a pot, The way their work light illuminated them, and the way they were wearing their knitted hat, took the whole scene out of time, if it weren’t for the modern kiln. I had come across a living chiaroscuro painting.
The artist sensed me, and a hesitation came across their face. I moved on, glad I hadn’t followed my reflex to take out my phone and take a picture.
A few moments later, and down the road, a silver flash revealed someone sitting on their porch, playing the banjo. The person’s face had an expression of relaxed absorption in the moment. I walked down the sidewalk a ways, took out my phone, pointed it to the sidewalk and away from the person to record the sound, and they stopped playing. Right away I hoped they were simply pausing and that I hadn’t interrupted them, even with the distance. Porches are made for sitting on and playing music.
Sitting here now, I’m amazed how much detail my mind caught of the potter’s studio. The lighting, the colour palette, the whole energy of the scene. I credit it in part to the ease of my meditative practice. I find more and more how quickly I can enter a state of relaxed awareness and more fully experience where I am, or what I am doing. Or being. I’m so grateful to have found a way to more deeply connect my inner and outer worlds in a way that doesn’t require anything of me other that being open to follow where the essence of life leads.
And how now I have an intriguing potter’s studio I can visit at any time in my mind. I have found a way to both experience and document the world around me in a way that has opened me up to all sorts of possibilities and adventures.
craftingthespirit.com 