It is dusk. The last of the daylight is fading and snow is falling. An occasional car passes by, its sound muffled by the snow. It is quiet. Darkness deepens, snowflakes sparkle in the reflection of the streetlight as they fall one by one, blanketing the world in white silence.
Winter, with its early darkness and cold weather, is a perfect time for turning inward, a time for following our curiosity for what might arise within us. It is a time for a gentle resting in openness. This evening, below the fold, we will turn into the stillness.
The text below is only a suggestion for meditative unfolding, called Self Abiding. This is a practice for a lifetime; so if you decide to try it, be gentle with yourself and let it develop naturally. It is a practice you can return to periodically to see how your openness grows and your awareness shifts. With repeated practice, as it develops within you, it may move in a completely different direction than I've suggested here. In fact I've had remarkably different experiences unfold while meditating in this fashion. There is no right or wrong, just give yourself permission to rest lightly in what unfolds, permission to allow whatever happens to be as it is. At some point you may decide to move into a more sustained practice along these lines. Or you may never want to try it at all. Let your heart lead the way.
Good evening and welcome to Monday Group Meditation. We will be sitting from 7:30 to 10:00 PM EST. It is not necessary to sit for the entire extended time, which is set up to make it convenient for people in four North American Time Zones; sit for as long as you like and when it is most convenient for you. Monday Group Meditation is open to everyone, believers and non-believers, who are interested in gathering in silence. If you are new to meditation and would like to try it for yourself, Mindful Nature gave a good description of one way to meditate in an earlier diary, copied and pasted below:
"It is a matter of focusing attention mostly. In many traditions, the idea is to sit and focus on the rising and falling of the breath. Not controlling it, but sitting in a relaxed fashion and merely observing experiences of breathing, sounds, etc. Be aware of your thoughts, but don't engage in them. When your mind wanders (it will, often), then return to focus on breath and repeat."
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Sinking into our seats, posture neutral and open, we breathe. Letting go of the day, all its busy-ness and worries.
Thoughts come, sometimes they attract us and we forget what we are about, but at some point we remember, and we return to our seat.
We continue to breathe, opening, opening, chest and diaphragm relax, and breath finds its way deeper, into our bellies. We become absorbed in our deepening breath.
Thoughts come less frequently now, they arise like an occasional bubble from the bottom of still, dark water, surfacing to burst and dissipating back to the emptiness from which they arose.
Our torsos rise and fall as breath moves in and out of our bodies…again…and again. No demands, only breathing. Awareness settles and deepens. We may begin to notice a feeling of space in our bodies. We rest in the spaciousness
Out of the silence a question arises, “Who am I?” We continue to breathe and the question falls away.
Breathing in and out, over and over...the question arises again, “Who am I?” We sit with it, holding it gently until it fades. Breathing in and out, in and out…again…and again.
The question arrives anew on our out breath, exhaling the question like a sigh, relaxing into it, “Who am I?”
We continue to breathe, noticing when the question comes awareness shifts subtly inside us, “Who am I?” The silence becomes deeper, and we open further.
Deep, deep stillness…sigh…”Who am I?” Something happens, it feels like the top of our heads open, like a flower blooming gently in the sun. And we breathe…again…and again, resting with this new openness.
Deep, deep stillness...sigh..."Who am I?" We begin to notice a subtle pulsation deep in our heads. We rest lightly with it and it falls away.
Out of the stillness, again we sigh..."Who am I?" The pulsation returns...stronger...just behind and above our eyes. We breathe.
Unchanging stillness…sigh…”Who am I?” Anchored in that awareness, the pulsation increases. Suddenly it feels like a cup overflowing deep in our heads, sweet nectar cascades settling in our hearts. We rest and allow the sensation to continue.
Sweet nectar spills in a stream of bliss, uniting head and heart, and we rest in utter tenderness.
In the stillness we breathe, in and out, anchored to our seats, again and again we breathe. Along with the question, the boundary between inner and outer falls away. In the stillness we rest, breathing in and out, over and over, we rest in resonance with tenderness and infinitude.