And how exactly do you write about nothing? Maybe I’m done right now, but I don’t think so.
I meditated for two hours yesterday morning. That’s a long time but it’s not new for me. Usually in a meditation sitting, I have periods of “quiet mind” and others of “monkey mind”. You get the idea. Quiet means relatively few thoughts, and those float away quickly. Monkey means a constant spewing of negativity, and thoughts that pile on top of each other. Yesterday was neither.
After a few minutes of settling, I went into a lengthy period that was brand new: no movement at all, either physical or mental. Virtually no thoughts. No words came to mind, even when I tried to create one, such as “love”. Probably for the first hour and three-quarters, all was still. My body slumped to the left and sometimes I brought it back to vertical, but there was no thinking. Just this big space inside me. And a supreme sense that whatever was happening was perfectly fine.
One random thought showed up: I should curl my lips upwards in a tiny smile, to beam loving energy to human beings. But no smile came and instead there was some global sense that the love was right here right now with no intentional thinking or movement. This awareness was all-encompassing, unspoken and undeniable. It didn’t seem to be a discrete thought.
Okay, I feel myself moving into censoring mode. “You’re not making any sense. People will think you’re crazy.” But whatever is going on right now as I type, it doesn’t feel “rational”. Something else is here. And I don’t care what it is. I’m just glad to be along for the ride.
One thing I’ve never done is write about a recent meditation experience, then begin another period of meditating, and then write about that too. So … off I go to my bedroom and my meditation chair. Will I be thirty minutes or three hours? I don’t know. Either way, I’ll talk to you soon.
Ha! I lasted 26 minutes. I fell asleep three times and a brightening consciousness kept saving me from toppling to the floor. Not exactly an experience of “nothing”! I started analyzing why today’s meditation was so different and came up with zero other than my recent overzealous caffeine consumption and the fact that I haven’t had any coffee today.
I decided to go to bed. “Too tired for meditation.” An hour later, after lots of coziness but no sleeping, I’m up again. And how strange – I’m very happy. The word “symphony” is flooding me, that my life is made up of so many different experiences and they blend to create a perfectly fine whole. Did I want to repeat yesterday’s nothingness? Yesiree. Am I devastated that this didn’t happen? Nosiree.
What now? I think I’ll read my book. And maybe return to my meditation chair a bit later.
To be continued.
I’ve just come out of another period of meditation – 70 minutes this time. And the nothingness returned … unbidden, unforced. I just watched. After awhile, partial images came. At the end, I looked back at the hour and the picture of a blob showed up. The blob was nothingness and occasionally a something would poke its head up, covered in blob goo, and then recede. The appearances had no staying power. They would partially form and then dissipate, gently fall apart.
First there was a fragment of a moment. It was at night. I was stepping off the sidewalk to cross the street. A car with headlights on was heading towards me from the right. Then … Poof! Gone. Next was a series of faces, barely formed and unrecognizable. Each in turn faded away, to be replaced by another silhouette which also dropped from sight almost immediately. Just the blob again. Then a thought would start, but couldn’t resist the gravity of the blob and would sink down again. Also a word or two, I think.
For the last few minutes, it was just the nothingness again. And then, without thought, it seemed to be time to go. I opened my eyes.
Well, isn’t this a wonder? I’m soft and quiet and open to whatever’s next. I hope nothing comes back. It may or may not. I’m all right with either.