The other day I was sitting on the sofa across from a south facing window, in full lotus, getting ready to meditate. It’s usually an exercise in futility for me but sometimes I achieve a state of semi-peace. Nothing major. I just sit.
As I sat there, not really into it yet, I thought about how my notion of God has changed over the years. I used to be very religious, grew up Catholic. But, over time, organized religion seemed to pinch, like shoes a little too small for my feet.
Gradually I left it behind. “Spiritual but not religious” became my new religion. Whatever encouraged me to open wide to love and life, to connect. I meditate in order to immerse myself in something larger than myself, something I don’t understand. I’m part believer, part agnostic, part atheist. It’s not real comfortable living without certainties, but it’s where I’m at.
So as I sat facing the window, before closing my eyes, I opened myself to the “Universe,” not knowing to Whom or What, if anything, I was opening. Just then a breeze blew through the big green leaves of the trees right outside my window. And for that instant I knew.
They say that nirvana isn’t a permanent state, it comes and goes. Also I’m jealous. 🙂
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When I need a little lift, I revisit that feeling I had when the breeze blew through. Just a taste of something. Your poetry springs from that same something methinks. 🙂
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You know I can relate to that, but the other thing is that for me, talking about the details of what I believe in a spiritual context always seemed wrong. It’s like I have to keep it to myself for it to be real. This is part of why my recent experience of being in mass was quite perturbing.
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I think I understand. Maybe the mass was more of a mystical-type experience, rather than an intellectual one. Analyzing things like that seems to diminish them sometimes.
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