The world that I see when I close my eyes

When I sit quietly, willing to be present, it happens quickly. It's always been like that for me: I fall in and I am instantly filled. Overtaken. Lifted from my feet while being rooted to the soil.

I came here to tell you about this place that I see when I close my eyes. This ... place... this ... world... of invitation, of immersion of... re-membering.

I came here to tell you that when I am there, seated in meditation, when I am open and listening, the conversation flows and I am reminded what I am, who I am.

I melt into the fullness of the flow and I am home. I am re-membered. I came here to tell you this because ... let's be honest... going there terrifies me. And telling you about it gives me a little more time. Time to get used to being there. Time to linger in proximity without entering the door. In this way, time becomes a kind of padding between me and 'there'.

I came here so we might gaze at it together. We might examine it from over here, separate from where it is, over there - and together we might feel a little of what it is without fully plunging in.

I do this because it’s so beautiful there and it frightens and overwhelms me. I feel so not quite perfect enough and not quite ready.

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

There is this horizon there, glowing with music which is also light, A sound which is also made of color. And when I am there, I am also that sound and color and light. I am also the music, as if every cell in my body were being saturated, being soaked in exactly what it needs, this perfect pleasure.

When I sit quietly, willing to be present, it happens quickly. It's always been like that for me: I fall in and I am instantly filled. Overtaken. Lifted from my feet while being rooted to the soil.

As I become that which I hear, that which I see, there is this light, rising: a percolating effervescence that fills me from the bottom to the top - I feel it even as I see it on a kind of 'screen' inside my own eyes.

When I am there, I know what 'it' is and what "I" am: pure and perfect joy. When I am there, and I am inside of its field I am home.

There is no urgency in this place. I know that it waits for me, patient, generous and available. Yet I often find it difficult to find the time to settle down, to settle in, to come to quiet and show up. For how will I find my way back, once I am submerged in that kind of love? How will I return to driving my car around these streets, to washing these dishes in the sink, to folding this laundry heaped in this basket?

Photo by Dan Gold on Unsplash

When I have allowed myself to submerge into beauty, it stays with me. I walk through the grocery store and I wonder: Does it show, the way my eyes are blazing with ardor for everyone and everything I see? Can they tell? I feel completely vulnerable, open to every sensation. At the same time, I know that I am entirely safe.

Is it possible to live in the real world when I am like this? Is this the real world? Or is the real world this submergence, this color, this music?

Sometimes, it’s all too much and I resist. I dither about, moving the furniture, repainting the kitchen. Then it happens. I am standing by the kitchen sink or sitting in my car or working in the laundry room, refolding the underwear that was perfectly folded yesterday, and I am 'there' - I am re-turned - and everything is buzzing with life, streaming with, overflowing with light. And I realize: Everywhere is there. All the light is already here, and ever it was. And ever will be.

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xxoo
Amy

Photo by Louis Hansel on Unsplash