Come
Again
Your life’s history, while unknown to most citizens, is
borne by you in memory and lifestyle. Unlike your laptop files, the contents of
your entire life, while not always easily accessible, can never be erased.
Barring injury, it’s impossible to leave home without them.
A likely question might be: why would someone want to do
a practice that forces a confrontation with this internal history. Surely, we
all have plenty of obligations and promises to concern our energies daily
without adding something that, at first hand, seems extraneous to more
important duties. Ah, that’s the rub.
In meditation, there is no contesting with memories or
current desires. As you sit calmly with eyes closed, ideas, images, and urgent
desires invariably emerge upon the screen of your mind clamoring for attention.
Interestingly, no effort was made to invite nor sustain them or anything else
that shows up in your mind’s eye. During these uninvited episodes, your
unhurried disposition is simply to remain interiorly poised in silence,
witnessing the changing contents. Aside from a sense of tranquility that
gradually ensues, sitting there bodily and emotionally pacified is the
adventure. Abstractly speaking, the question lingers: so…why bother, what’s the
point?
Skip ahead. You take a vacation to get away from it all
for a week, heading westward all by yourself to a state full of forests.
Northern Montana seems right. Arriving early morning, you quickly glance at a
map and head for the Rockies. Being Autumn, you decide to look for blue spruces
and sugar maple trees that might be suitable for tapping. Walking about, you
are soon wandering off trails finding briefs mounds and ravines but hardly a
few maples. Near noon, you forgot to bring lunch, and now are clueless of your
exact location.
The early afternoon sky turns cloudy and hides the
direction of the sun. Wearied from wandering about for who knows how long and
slightly worried, you ease down against an Oak. You question your agenda
incessantly, your whole ambition for coming here seems absurd. As you continue
your relentless self-accusations, a darkening overcast appears. Now what?
Fatigued, you slip asleep.
More than an hour passes. You awake unexpectedly rested.
Rising, a mild shock of bewilderment runs through you. One hundred meters
starring in front stands a magnificent, gleaming Castle. Here? In the forest?
What’s going on?
Walking toward the entrance, you feel strangely at ease.
There, inlaid upon the massive door reads ‘Welcome.’ You enter. A spacious yet
comfortable vestibule greets your view. Looking across to the far end, under
the light of the crystal chandeliers, a wide, carpeted stairway looms. Fifteen
seconds of walking takes you to the first step. Another sign on the banister: ‘Please
Ascend.’ Your curiosity mounts.
You look around with anticipation as you climb the
stairs. Old worries fade by, emotional pressures and anxieties about the future
seem to lighten with each step. By the
time you reach the fourth landing, you have more energy than when you started
and feel more alert and trusting about yourself. How intriguingly strange!
Finally, after pausing briefly at the top of the staircase, a mahogany portal
beckons: ‘Please Enter.’
You step onto a terraced roof high above the surrounding
region. An eerie pleasantness and safety pervades the atmosphere as you
investigate. Roosting on a nearby baluster, six crows amusingly announce your
visit as the blue sky with its shining companion showers your presence. Peering
pass the brass railing, Nature’s panorama lies before you, with all its trails,
hills, valleys and more. Even your parked auto is obvious. You unobtrusively saunter
about and gaze as you will---awed by the complex beauty before you.
Who knows or even cares how many
minutes passed. Finally, the cawing crows get your attention to look upward and
spy them circling about an imprinted waving flag:
‘Come
back anytime…everything is yours.' Now you know how to retreat into your Citadel and
rejuvenate for future skirmishes.
The
Wanderer
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home