“Help us to get quiet that we can feel our soul-salt coming to the surface to be known.”- Pixie Lighthorse
The meditative state is coming back to me. I lost it for a while. We have an on-off love-affair meditation and me. I have sat religiously at my altar almost every day for about eight years, but a lot of that time has been mind-racing, body-twitching, clock-ticking mild to extreme moments of discomfort. But I believed there was, there had to be something more. It was a hunch, it was a deep desire, to return to that feeling of being me here now. Something I'd experienced as a girl, sitting in the garden and staring at the trees - the bliss of being still.
And recently, thankfully, after a particularly turbulent time I have started to taste again, what Pixie calls the soul-salt. Those silent moments of dialling into presence. What sweet relief. Tasting the saltiness of being me.
I used to meditate because I felt that I had to, to be a better person and a better teacher. To keep a handle on my 'crazy'. I was to be honest, sanctimonious about it (ugh, yes it’s true). It became a tick off my 'to do' list, and I felt guilty if I skipped it - worried that the meditation police would bang down the door of my mind! And boy how we battled - stillness and me. She, the stillness, became incredibly sulky, elusive and non-communicative (or was that me?)
I begged the stillness to come back to me. I cried and I pleaded. Until finally she threw me to the floor, how badly do you want it? She asked. With all my heart and soul, mind said. So just shut up and listen, said she. Listen to the birds, the cars, the breath in your nose hairs. Listen to the noise to hear the silence. Then listen to the beats in-between. I am in that space.
I needed to go into the noise to hear the silence. And when I did, stillness and I began to converse, and finally I started to listen and receive rather than push and pull what I expected the experience to be. And then the silence dripped in. Giddy with delight for a few seconds I would feel my salty soul ... til she vanished again. Softly, gently, I cannot hold on too tight, she flees when held in a grip. Like a butterfly - hold out my hand, for her to land.
Stillness doesn’t make me better, she simply mirrors to me what I don’t want to see or feel or be. She comes in flickers, stop-starts and whispers. But even if only for one sweet second I receive that quiet moment, it is worth the daily discipline of dropping in.
Meditation has become a space to converse with all the world inside me. It is a bite of quiet in busy life. My path and method may be alternative, I am not sure, but it's my messy muddy meditation and I'll savour it like my morning cup of coffee, because I crave it in the din.
My Two Fave Meditation Books:
“Meditation for the love of it” by Sally Kempton and “True Meditation” by Adyashanti