3 July 2012

Solo Retreat - Day 3

"All true wisdom is only to be found far from the dwellings of man, in great solitudes."
- Knud Rasmussen

Retreat - Day 3, Sunday 1st July 2012

I wake at 6.30am and watch the sunrise, a gentle tangerine glow over a black treetop canopy.

A crow lands on a nearby bough, caw, caw, caaaaaaaawww....I slither quietly to the toilet before the surfers next door emerge into hangover heaven.

Back in the warm tent I slide into meditation.

It comes easily as I let go into the exhilarating descent like a surfer, or skier, riding wild, my mind softening to go with it, no need to harden, or grasp for the known, or try to control, just flow.
Delight arises within my solid but light filled body.

This feeling only comes after meditation hours have accumulated - surely there must be some kind of scientific ratio of sitting hours x time; like this feeling just doesn't arise with 7 hours of meditation over 7 weeks, but it will arise after 7 hours in two days.

My face is warmed by sunshine entering the tent between thick patchy clouds. Body and mind settle, condense and quietly glow, my spine delicately realigns itself and I feel the release of subtle tensions, and cells rejoicing as they sparkle in freedom. Breath is silky smooth, mind alert. From inside this space I'm able to pierce through thick layers into a vast expansive and raw reality - it's wild and primitive in here. I long to BE this Truth.

Wind swirls through the treetops and a fine shower of rain scatters upon the tent, then passes. A single bird twitters, whistles, tweets, chatters, in a delicate and complex language,  individual words and syllables precisely articulated in joyful birdsong. Other birds interject, but this one bird is both the maestro and the court jester, he's the bard singing the story of the wind and the rain.

Digestion meditation

Breakfast is coffee, half a banana and a few spoonfuls of yoghurt. 
I sense the yoghurt molecules being absorbed by my upper palate, somehow cooling my brain long after the rest has been digested. 
In a meditative state it's easy to sense how agitated the body becomes during digestion - my breath is faster and deeper, sucking in more oxygen to fuel the digestive processes, hormonal release sparks frenzied physiological activity as they run riot through my bloodstream - I watch with subtle senses the cogs and wheels spinning, the amazingly intricate functioning of this human body. 

Moon meditation 

At 12 o'clock I rise from morning meditation, walk outside to stretch my legs, and gaze up in search of the moon. I can't see it. Thinking it should be a little lower in the sky than yesterday, I scan the entire sky spectrum, squinting, frowning, annoyed at the patchy cloud cover obscuring her. After 5 minutes, I give up. She's elusive today.

I need to study the moon positions more closely.

I want to know her more intimately.

Lately I've found a clandestine comfort in my growing awareness of the moon; her stealthy movements are predictable, she'll always be somewhere in the sky, even when she's on the opposite side of the earth.

Looking up into the sky seeking the moon, and by chance glancing upon her shadow light, my human presence turns into myth; I'm teleported outward into deep space on invisible wings. It's like stepping beyond the flames of an open fire and entering a timeless dimension.
Primordial elemental fire energy - or primordial elemental moon energy.

The moon connects time from our ancient past through to the present, and future.
She was born to be with the earth, she is earth's secret admirer, always there, revolving around her soul mate, always following, ever present, circling.

After lunch I return to sitting.
I have somehow become moony, mystical, female, liquid energy.
I breathe long, full moon breaths. They revolve, in and out.

Obsessed with the moon, I am caught up in her magick spell and cannot meditate.

Sometimes the mind goes where it's never gone before, and stays.

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