I used to be in a personal development program where we were asked to “hold the space” – of commitment for instance. So I would be committed to achieving some result, and my example of commitment would hopefully inspire others to do the same.
The space is an atmosphere of goodness, sufficiency, expansion, sweetness … It’s like when you enter a room and you can immediately sense the spiritual environment – hopefully one of welcoming and peace, not one of contraction and anger.
I meditated for eighty minutes this afternoon. The length of time is mostly irrelevant – the space that I reached was not. It was pretty much indescribable but I’ll give it a go. It felt like my breathing stopped. Everything stopped. Even thoughts only showed up occasionally. My face softened and the muscles fell. Some energy shimmered over my forehead. Within the stillness came a little smile and an instant later all was love. Truly all was love. There was nothing outside of love.
Then there was a flurry of thoughts and the stillness left. There was a pulsing instead. I decided to just watch it. Actually I was hoping the pulse would go away and the no-movement would return, but I was fine with that not happening. Minutes later, all was still and love again and I sat there in that space for what felt like a long time.
Everything was fine, completely sufficient, sacred, floating, resting, in communion with life. And then my eyes opened. I caressed my singing bowl three times with the mallet and my meditation sitting was over.
The space lingered as I got out of my meditation chair, found my wallet, and got into Scarlet for the drive to the Barking Cat, my local pub. Nachos beckoned. I was still deeply within the space as I opened the door. The place was packed and I had to search for a seat. The PGA Tour Championship was on TV and Tiger Woods was leading, for the first time in many years. And then what?
The space went poof as I salivated over the possibility of Tiger being my hero again. I brought my nose towards the television to follow every shot. Swept up and overwhelmed by an old version of me. How easily I let the space of transcendence slip away, unconsciously. Only after the nachos were tiny bits did I wake up to what had happened.
So … will I commit to the current version of Bruce showing up a lot more frequently? Yes, I will. I can’t afford not to, for there isn’t much cheese down the tunnel of birdie putts and monster drives. The cheese is elsewhere.
The space that came upon me today, by grace, is available as I walk into a living room, a school, and yes, even a pub. What can I create with kids and adults coming from such an aura of love? Something beautiful, I think, even if that’s largely unknown right now.
May I let the space linger, even within the flurry of daily life.