Saturday, November 1, 2014


Meditation.  Evening.  After dark.  I turn the lights off.  I set a candle on the floor.  I sit on a cushion gazing at the candle.  The candle is a miniature sun.  The candle is my soul.  Meditation shows me my soul's light.  

The rest of the time, I don't see my soul. I react to the world around me, just trying to get through, trying to do the things I have to do.  Shouldering my burdens. 

In meditation, I remember who I am.  I realize I've been trying to be someone I'm not.  In meditation, I think of friends and family and wish them well. 

I've read about meditation.  Sometimes they talk about visiting an inner grove.  In your imagination, you develop a landscape, and you develop the inhabitants of that landscape.

I have not though up much detail for my inner grove.  What I do see is a cultivated landscape, with grass and shrubs.  There's a sense that the inhabitants are people who love me, but not much detail about who they are.

I've had that experience in dreams.  I may not remember the specifics of the dreams, but when I wake up, I know that I was valued and loved in my dreams, and it gives me a sense of satisfaction.

Meditation too gives me a sense of satisfaction.  It's not necessarily about a sense of being valued and loved by others.  The sense of being loved happens more often in dreams than in meditation.  Meditation is not about being loved by others.  It is about being present in myself.   In meditation, I find the peace.  I find the strength. I find my soul. 

I meditate before bedtime.  So after meditation, I get up and go to bed.  And I find myself feeling content as I go to bed. 

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