Join me on Saturday 17 June 2020 at HelMel Studios & Gallery for an afternoon of music, meditation and creative exploration.
There are only 30 spots, so be sure to register soon!
Thanks, and I can’t wait to explore with you all!
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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.
Have you every meditation about your meditation? I did today.
I did one of my favourite urban hikes that ends for me at the grounds of the Self-Realization Mother House near where I live. I wandered behind the main building so I could see the vista of mountains, covered with more snow than I’ve seen in my entire time living in Los Angeles.
And I thought– this is my image of sovereignty. Not in human form, but in the quiet solid ancient strength of mountains. The roar of water. Gnarled tree roots that I imagine were braided by faeries. Not in human-created deities. I felt filled with the beautiful power of Nature.
I wandered over to the Temple of Leaves to sit a bit. Another person was sitting down as I arrived, and he was loud and purposeful in his breathing. I sat and listened to the birds and wondered more about sovereignty as I fell into the delicious comfort of meditation.
I began to sense a light deep in my brain, and then I could see it, and it had a faint, indescribable. sound. Bells made of water is the closest I can come.
I got curious about the light, and inwardly said “I would like to see more, please.”
The light grew and I could feel it both inside and outside more forehead. Like the looking glass Alice fell through.
My eyes still closed, the light moved and was hovering in front of me. It looked something like the Sun, but more- with a wavy ribbon candy corona, and rays flowing out. So beautiful.
I felt a pull to the center, and the image grew to encompass my whole consciousnesses.
I moved towards the center and was hearing “In the center is a jewel. and the jewel is the center.” So many indescribable feelings.
And then “Your heart is the jewel, and the jewel is your heart. Your heart is all hearts, and all hearts are One.”
All of me was filled with light that felt like carbonated water. And the breeze around me blew tendrils of light and energy off of me.
Right around then something growled in the bushes, and I could hear a crack as I was startled back into ordinary consciousness.
Once I determined it was frisky squirrels and not a threat, I sat there a few more moments. Thinking about how humans have tried to describe the Undescribable through myths and religions- through art, and music.
And how, if one is very lucky, one can enter and experience a glimpse of what is beyond ordinary human consciousness and bring back a beautiful impression and memory that can be opened again at any time.
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Image is a photo I took on my walk.
Cultivating a sense of awe is an important skill to have.
Instinctive Meditation® is one of the ways to increase this sense of awe. It doesn’t require large block of time, uncomfortable postures, or memorization of mantras. It’s a practice that is unique to you, and unique from day to day.
Awe doesn’t have to be a goosebump moment. It can simply be a deepened sense of appreciation and wonder.
“On fMRI studies, awe quiets the default mode network in the brain, which results in the quieting of our internal and self-referential inner voice, hence a smaller sense of self and greater sense of connection.”
More good stuff in this article I found via The Good Life Project. It’s geared towards those in the caring professions, and has much good in it for the rest of us, too.
https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/is_awe_a_path_to_resilience_in_caring_professions?fbclid=IwAR19dCjICvJ3oJucvvIYQ6GUGeQMyZ_d87Lm7LFjYDBkBKuJOfRzXeY7kTg
I would love to collaborate with you in creating your own instinctive meditation practice. Send me an email at craftingthespirit1@gmail.com, and let’s begin our adventure!
The other day I was walking the scenic route to the grocery store, ruminating over something or another. I turned the corner and started down the hill. A thought in the background: “Oh. That’s a nice breeze.”
I walked a few more steps. And said out loud “No. Wait.” and walked backwards a few steps.
Came fully into my senses. Felt the breeze, soft as butterfly wings, caress my face.
Heard it’s language change from tree to tree.
Smelled fresh mulch.
Pine.
Eucalyptus.
Sniffed the air some more.
Smelled coffee.
And breakfast wafting from someone’s house.
More.
The crispness of mountains,
And the promise of snow.
The beauty of taking pause is that it creates the opportunity to fully experience where you are, in the moment. It can be a minute and spontaneous reset, if you are open to receive it.
Like this morning while I was out walking and stopped to look at this rose, fresh after the rain. Really look at it. Watch rain drops quiver. One slid into the other, uniting. Whispers of colour in the shimmering cloud grey light.
Getting up close enough to see the world upside down through the lens of a raindrop.
I was half tempted to kiss a raindrop.
Whatever had my attention that day blew off with the wind, but what grabbed my attention has stayed with me. I can bring it up at any time and savour it. While doing mundane tasks. Before a meeting to center myself. At night as a prequel before drifting off to sleep. As a doorway to meditation, wandering through the experience and feeling all the sensations that arise.
I invite you to give it a try. Pause. Even for a few seconds. What does the keyboard feel like under your fingers? What do you sense in your body? Is there a colour theme around you? Does anything come up that’s been calling for attention? Did the pause spark a creative urge, or present a solution?
Take a moment.
Pause.
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