I sit on my beautiful Sun Porch, writing to you. Before the writing I sat in meditation. My eyes were open and the clouds moved slowly though the blue sky. The almost imperceptible glide enthralled me, poured into my eyes and smoothed back along my brain, teaching my inner body the orgasmic slowness of those majestic sailing bodies in the sky. The slow flow rolled down through my body, teaching me my own true speed. Reminding me, waking me up. It is a speed my heart knows.
Slow, undulating, like the soft absolute vulnerability of the underside of a slug, gliding over everything it meets with indiscriminate intimacy.
I want to talk to you about stillness. I want to give you an invocation that can awaken you to the experience of the deep absolute stillness that you are. Do you feel it? Can you touch that quiet place of unimaginable love?
How does stillness read this email? How does stillness sit where you are? How does stillness type these words? This is inquiry. The mind does not know, so do not try to find the answer there.
I invite you into my experience. I'll do it now. How does stillness sit here on the love seat, looking out of the window? And I wait, I listen, I feel into it intuitively.
First there is a little hurdle of the mind. A little blip that says I have to do this right. It melts. How does stillness sit here on the love seat?
An ancient holiness sets in. A quiet fullness emanates from everything. My cat's breathing behind me brings waves of peace. The hematite on the windowsill dances without motion.
A fabric of quiet is the world, flowing, ringing in silence. I am woven in. I am it. The ice encased hydrangea outside the window pierces me back to what I am, breaks my heart. I am of it.
Try it for yourself, this question. Whatever you happen to be doing when you think of it, ask "how does stillness do this?" And then listen, wait, feel. The clouds might show you. The sunlight on the armrest might show you. The wide flung arms of the trees, in there silent exaltation might show you.
My love to you today,