I was afraid. I felt, I still feel, as if on that island there’s a hatch that comes ajar. On this side is what we’re pleased to call “the real world”. On the other is all the machinery of the universe, running at top speed. Only a fool would stick his hand into such machinery in an attempt to stop it.
Wow. I don’t know what to say but I want to say something. How about that? Is it the nature of the machinery that my rational mind can’t comprehend it? Do I just need to get out of the way to allow unknown forces to flow through?
In the conventional world, I’m sick – dizzy and weak. I’m afraid of not getting fit enough in time for my crossing of Canada this summer. I worry about whether person A loves me anymore and wonder why person B hasn’t contacted me in awhile. Except I’m often the one who lapses in the contacting department.
My long meditation retreat allowed me to see some of that machinery beyond the day-to-day. A sense of being present as everything keeps changing. Feeling peace flow over me. Glimpsing that one moment is no better than any other one. When I’m feeling well, these often show up unbidden.
What will happen if I let it all go and just let the wheels turn? I don’t know. I still have to function in the “real” world. My bathtub has backed up –lots of standing water. I tried using the submersible punk to drain the water. But I plugged the pump into the outlet beside the sink – designed for shavers and such – and now there are no lights in the bathroom. The bulbs are fine. The breaker downstairs wasn’t tripped. So I need an electrician. That’s fine. I’ll call one tomorrow.
But what’s beyond all those strategies to have light, a clear drain, and the end of illness? What exactly is down that hatch? Maybe saying “I don’t know” and keeping my hands away is the ultimate path to the unknown. Something is calling me. Even through my coughing. There is a wellness past illness, a grace beyond thought, a being beyond doing.