He sat meditating. He/I prefer breathing meditation. It lacks the superfluous stuff, and I think it’s harder. So it’s more interesting. But I’d never say that.
Anyway.
Meditation used to be just about sitting quietly.
Then it was about breathing.
And it was about returning to the breath.
But that was a via towards sitting quietly. That was what I always kind of returned to.
So instead I made it about the breathing. Really the breathing. Active instead of passive.
And tonight I became aware of something else. A spiritual body? I’m not sure what to call it. There was a definitive moment when I all of a sudden became aware of it. Of this thing that I carry along with me. A body that maybe I ride in, the way that my brain rides in my physical body?
I’m really not sure. This is all new.
But I felt it all of a sudden settle like a balaclava over my face and head. And I mean with the confining, stranguling elements of that as well. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it covered. Like a coat of very thick paint. Or warm pancake batter.
I wonder if esp and other spiritual tricks don’t happen because it’s glopped all over my head and no where else. I tried to reach out a pseudopod of it, and maybe that worked. I reached out for my phone so I could see how long I’m been meditating for. I reached for the table (where I usually put it) but found it empty. Then I remembered I’d placed it on the floor next to me. But I’d found the table empty.
Anyway – that’s it. Maybe nothing. But the experience was new.
a forest
October 31
It was unseasonably cold. 20 degreed in Ocotber. The snow started as a light dusting. The air cold enough to prevent the ice crystals from grouping into clumps. That came later.
As the temperature rose the flakes got bigger and bigger. The trees had yet to lose their leaves, so small mountains of snow gathered atop their branches.
Deep in the forest in an area now filled with now drooping evergreens stood a single elm. The evergreens, built for snow, simply bent with the layers of snow not on top of their branches.
Distantly came the sounds of trees shattering under the snow’s weight. It sounded like explosions.
No one was there to see that single elm being to twitch, and then suddenly like a wet dog, twist and shake and toss all the snow from it’s branches.