Here I sit, in the main branch of the London Public Library, in a golden state of openness. I was there many times during my month of silence in February and also in some meditation sessions at home since then. But today is different. I’ve been out and about at Wimpy’s Diner, Wellington Fitness, Farm Boy and now the library. A quietness has followed me everywhere, taking a break when I’m talking to someone, giving ‘er on the elliptical or negotiating downtown traffic, but otherwise … it’s here. As in right now.
It’s one thing to go deep in the meditation hall but out in the “real” world? Never before like this. And just so you know, it’s not scary. It’s actually lovely. But what does it mean? I know that my life experiences are transient – easy come and easy go. And this spaciousness will eventually morph into something that I’ll define as “less”. Still, it’s hanging in with me on a Monday.
I’m not crazy but I worry that some of you reading this might think so. Do I keep going or just nip all this talk in the bud? Well, I’ve already set the table. Maybe I should just dive into my meal, hoping that you’ll stay near. Yes, I’ll do that.
It’s like I’m being soothed by the surf, a gentle rocking inside my head. There are small waves of energy roaming around. But I’m fully aware of my surroundings. My trusty laptop is on my trusty lap and over there are folks reading newspapers, checking their cell phones and making marks on white sheets of paper. All normal stuff. But what if this head space is becoming my new normal? That would be okay. I’d still function well in the world.
I look at my fellow library patrons and see my brothers and sisters, a mom and two daughters and an old friend from home. We’re all in this together, and that’s just fine.
The waves are getting bigger, and again it’s not scary. I wonder if someday soon I’ll get to experience this in the middle of a conversation. Wo. Some sort of energy is shimmering down from my head to my toes. I’ve felt this before but I think only when I was meditating.
“Shut it down, Bruce. You’re getting too weird. Keep going like this and you’ll be alone in the world.” No, I disagree. I don’t expect to be alone in this world anytime soon.
“Don’t you dare post this! White-coated humans will be knocking on your door forthwith.” Sorry, friend, but a-posting I will go. See those chips falling where they may?
“You need to keep busy. Keep doing things so all this silliness won’t have any room in your head.” I don’t want to be knee-jerk busy, and it seems like there’s lots of room in my head.
I wonder if anybody here on the third floor feels me. I doubt it. But I know I reached some people on the retreat. I want to reach people … with love and peace.
“Shut it down, I say. There’s no audience for this stuff.” Oh?
I’m done writing for today. But my head will go on. See you tomorrow.