Okay. I see it now.
The silence that stills the mind.
The freshness of the moment.
The death of time.
The green of the grass.
The blue of the sky.
I am awash with the love of a million mothers.
I have forgotten my name.
The fly is my brother.
I stare at its rubbing legs and compound eyes in awe.
Inside I see myself.
Movement has slowed down, my heart is beating slower.
I feel like everything has taken on a crispness.
Sharp as if my lens has been adjusted.
The sun is irradiating the grass blades - oh how they glisten!
The wind is blowing through the branches slowly,
deliberately, as if knowingly, as if a spirit in itself.
My brother too.
How strange all this! I feel at peace.
I have a tinkling hope somewhere - or is it joy?
It is at once curious, amused, quiet, calm but also excited.
I have to meet a friend. I get in the car.
The sky is blinding blue. I can't stop staring.
I don't turn the radio on - this silence is delicious.
All these cars around me are fascinating
and inexplicable - these people around me: why are they upset? why are they rushing?
Can't they see this sky??
I feel so at peace. I park and sit down at a table, outside, I wait for my friend.
I look at the people sitting here too. I feel okay about them, with them.
They are animated and fascinating. This flesh that moves around in space, the voices that come out,
the colour of the clothes. I feel a warmth, a kindness.
I'm staring at the sky. She comes through the gate. She smiles.
Her energy is beautiful. She is beautiful.
I notice the beauty marks on her face.
Her hair is supple. I tell her what I am experiencing.
I have a tinkling fear somewhere: that she will not believe me.
Hours pass, I do not know. We talk about the most beautiful things.
Our relationship has shifted somehow.
I love her. She is my sister.
I go home.
I forget when my mind returned.
I have not felt this since then but for a few moments of grace (daily, almost, yes. many times just deep gratitude). It has been a few months.
I wasn't sure what it was. I was meditating, I had been meditating consistently for a few days, doing self-inquiry, I was determined, and then it happened, all the noise disappeared suddenly like down a vortex, and then the silence and peace and crispness sort of melted away the next morning when I got up for work. I never mentioned it to anyone else. My meditation practice fell away. I got consumed with life. Things happen that suck me in. My mind sucks me in. I am distracted. I fall back into suffering, desperation.
But I see it now, I think it is a choice. Letting go is scary, I think I'm still holding on to my-self very tight, I know it is a choice ultimately. Practice of making your mind stop helps, but I think you have to be determined.
There is a small fountain at the funeral home at the entrance. It makes a wonderful gurgling sound when they plug it up. Above, on the wall, Mark's mum stuck a vinyl decal, a quote from the New Testament:
"But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life."
Oh my God. It has been staring at me in the face every morning when I go to work.
Is it possible that the answer can be so underlyingly simple yet so damn elusive, for all the sticky attachments we have piled on top of it?
Is the difference between heaven and hell just a matter of unclenching my mind's fist and unclasping it from my consciousness?
(whoa easier said than done)