meditation – Page 2 – One Woman's Quest

Meditating

“There are several steps to this meditation,” Dora Kunz began, “and with each one, if you hit an obstacle, just set it aside.”

I had come, as had those around me, to learn more from this enlightened soul. Having experienced the sense of renewal that meditation could bring, I was excited to be learning from such an expert. Dora Kunz, co-founder of Therapeutic Touch, had practiced meditation from the age of five, she’d told us. Now in her nineties, she had endless wisdom to impart.

“Take a deep breath in,” she started, “and as you exhale, release any tension in your body.”

I breathed in, noticing that the area between my shoulder blades was knotted in tension. I tried to envision it breaking up with my breath, but it wouldn’t let go.

“If your tension won’t release, just acknowledge it and set it aside.”

I could do that.

“Now, without speaking, affirm to yourself: I am at peace with myself; and allow yourself to feel it.”

Breathe in. I am at peace with myself. Breathe out. A niggling in the pit of stomach said, No you’re not. I knew it wasn’t true. I was not at peace with myself.

“If you feel doubts, set them aside. If you are unable to do that, than act as if you are at peace with yourself.”

It is as if I am at peace with myself. Ah, that felt better. I could imagine as if.

“Now allow yourself to become aware of the person on either side of you, and beyond them to the circle gathered here, and affirm: I am in harmony with those gathered here.”

This was easier to do. We’d come together with a common goal. I inhaled the warmth of our kinship, and felt myself relax a little deeper.

“Continuing to breath deeply, allow your awareness to expand beyond these walls and connect with the nature that surrounds us. State: I am at one with Nature.”

The meditation room was surrounded by nature on all sides. Following her instructions, I imagined myself breathing in the fresh country air, the vivid green of the trees vibrating around me, and the trickling sound of the brook flowing through me. I am at one with Nature, I repeated to myself. With each breath, I felt as if my body and my heart pulsed with the rhythm of nature; everything interconnected. I was now deeply relaxed, surrendering.

“Now pull your awareness back into your own center.”

Focusing on my center, I drew my breath in, the sensation of relaxation filling my belly with a calm strength.

“From this center of calm and strong, connect beyond this room, beyond nature and the world, beyond the galaxy, to a universe of order and compassion.”

Slowly, she spoke her command, and my awareness obliged, expanding and reaching beyond the beyond, feeling that connection, as if a silver cord of consciousness tied me to an eternal, omnipotent intelligence. I connected with order and compassion; and the presence of unconditional love, and in that moment knew that all was as it was supposed to be: life has reason, and purpose, and meaning. I wanted to remain suspended in this realm of knowing: free.

“Now bring your awareness back to your center, maintaining the essence of your experience.”

I felt stronger, somehow, and very calm.

“When you are ready, let your breath bring you back into this room, to the awareness of your body in the chair. Gently move your fingers and toes, allowing yourself to return to full consciousness, renewed and restored, and at your own pace, opening your eyes.”

Reluctantly, I became aware of the room around me, and ever so slightly moved my fingers. With a yawn, I let my body wake up, breathing life back into it and stretching. I felt so good, so alive!

A universe of order and compassion, I thought to myself. What a wonderful idea! If only I could remember it in my day-to-day living.

An Enlightened Life

“What would you like to learn about?”

“Tell us about your life,” one woman called out.

“Well, yes, that,” the tiny woman responded, “but there’s nothing to learn there. What do you want to learn?”

After several protests, our teacher promised that she would fill us in on her ninety plus years at the end of the weekend.

I had anticipated this workshop for months, without really knowing what to expect. Dora Kunz, co-founder of Therapeutic Touch, had published several books about her work, but I found them difficult to read, and hadn’t gained much from them. Unlike her partner, Delores Krieger, Dora did not have a nursing background and so remained somewhat of an enigma to those of us who pursued understanding of this simple, but powerful technique. I had taken several workshops with Delores, each of them long and gruelling, packed with information and experiences, Delores being a tireless lecturer. Krieger’s workshops were always accompanied by an outline of curriculum expectations, and formally conducted. Participants would have to ask for breaks, as Krieger’s passion for the subject matter precluded any need for a break in her presentation. It was immediately apparent that Dora Kunz’s approach was in stark contrast to that of her colleague.

My initial reaction to Kunz’s opening question was disappointment. I had signed up for a workshop on meditation, did she not know that? Was this woman too old and senile to be able to put a program together?

“Well we signed up for a workshop on meditation.” Someone else must have been thinking the same as me.

“Yes, but what about meditation would you like to learn?” I had to admit, the lady was charming. She must have been all of 4’10”, with waves of white hair caressing her gentle face. A warm smile, and twinkling eyes embraced her audience, and an obvious sense of humour set us at ease. “At my age, I don’t plan for these things, you know. I find it’s better to just go with the flow.”

So that’s what we did. For three mesmerizing days, we listening hungrily to the words of this tiny guru, whose vast bank of experience and pragmatic approach to teaching guided us to the deeper understanding we sought. For me, her greatest lesson was yet to come.

At the end of the weekend, as promised, Dora told us about her life.

“I was only five years old,” she began, “when my parents, recognizing there was something different about me, built me a meditation room.” As a young child, Dora had an awareness of energy and other realities that most parents would brush off as an active imagination. Dora’s parents decided to nurture these gifts in their only child. When Dora was eleven, she was invited to study with a man at an institute continents away, where the spoken language was different from her own. Her parents told her to meditate on it, which she did, and decided to accept his offer. “I looked like an eight-year-old boy,” Dora laughed, “when I arrived at this institution full of adults.” Dora stayed and studied with this man for several years and then moved to another foreign country to further her studies. Her work eventually led her to the United States, where I would have the privilege of meeting her.

When asked how she knew which offers to accept, Dora responded: “No was not an option for me. I trusted that this work was my calling, and so I always looked for a way to say yes when opportunity knocked.” It was not always easy, she went on to explain. At one point in her life, she was asked to speak about her spiritual beliefs to a group of convicts. She was just a young woman, and felt incredibly vulnerable and intimidated by the gathering of murderers and hard-core criminals she encountered, but she said that was all soon forgotten when the men found something comforting in her words.

Dora continued her work, and I would encounter her again at another workshop, still teaching, just two weeks before she passed away. She was 95.

Dora Kunz remains for me an icon of someone who has led a complete life. She lived her life inspired by a passion for learning and helping others. She was dedicated to a life of service.

(Image from nancybragin.com)

Muskoka Meditation

Closing my eyes, I imagine a body of water. In my mind’s eye I see a lake in Muskoka: a thick morning mist hovering over the surface. I breath and imagine the fog rolling back to reveal a shimmering gray surface, the sleight swells of the water reflecting shards of light. A fish jumps and distracts me, and my mind scans the surface for more life.

I breathe again, this time more deeply, slowly, holding it awhile before slowly exhaling. The waters of my lake calm…..then the dog growls, pulling me from my reverie, his insistent barking terrorizing a passerby.

Another deep breath. Where was I? I allow the heaviness of meditation to settle my body and focus again on the water’s surface. I imagine the call of a loon, beckoning me further into the reverie. I imagine I can smell the water, and the freshness of the Northern air. The early morning rays catch the ripples and sparkle. The morning mist is gone now, and the wind recedes, calming the surface of the water, and with it my mind. Ah, the beauty of stillness!

I surrender to the serenity of the moment.

(Image: flickriver.com)

Lifelines

The forest is thick with the smell of new leaves, tinged with the lingering winter musk. The trees here stretch endlessly upwards, their trunks a testimony to the timelessness of the place. Rays of warm sunlight reach downwards, creating pockets of warm glow. The soft moss and dry earth beneath my feet cushion my steps. Birdsong fills the air, adding to the aura of enchantment. I come here to meditate. This is my oasis: a calm, nurturing retreat where I can find renewal. I breathe deeply and allow all my senses to revel in the beauty. A crackling of twigs alerts me to the presence of another. A horse and rider come into my line of vision and stop. The young man’s eyes meet mine, and there is a rush of recognition. He is young, maybe mid twenties, with thick dark hair, and dark eyes. I feel that I have known him many lifetimes, and that ours has been a relationship of deep and abiding love. “I am coming back to you,” is all he says, and I feel my heart leap with joy.

The unexpected vision and accompanying emotional surge forces me back to consciousness. The meditation had been so deep and relaxing that it find it hard to shake off the drowsiness. It was so real. I open my eyes to find my friend, Sam looking at me. “It’s a boy!” I blurt out. “You’re going to have a boy!”

I was right about the boy, but the message was not for my friend who was so desperately hoping for a child. It was for me, who although I thought I was finished my childbearing, was about to discover myself pregnant again. My dark haired, brown-eyed boy was born the next fall.

Mothers know that there is an unseen cord of consciousness that runs between them and their children. It is first experienced when they wake up seconds before their sleeping baby. Or maybe earlier, in the dream time.

Contemplation of Inner Lives

Wasn’t it Carl Jung who said that each of us has a cast of thousands within our psyche? What if I could meet with my inner personas, envision a way for us to all get along?

I am reminded of a recurring dream I have had about an underground cave full of people, through which I try to maneuver. I picture the cave to help me imagine my inner selves. The space is roomy, with high ceilings, and a fire that lightens the scene. There is an underground body of water around which people are gathered. It is crowded in here. I visually push the crowd back, clearing a space in the light.

“Listen up troops! This is ego talking. Can we have a meeting?”

Who will come forward?

A small figure steps into the clearing. She looks to be about three or four years old. Dark curls of hair fall in disarray about her shoulders. Dragging a stuffed animal by her side, she rubs her big, brown eyes with her free hand, as if just waking up from a deep sleep.

“Hello, Little One. Welcome.” I am delighted both by her innocence, and her bravery for being the first to step up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch more movement. It is a twelve-year-old version of myself, who steps in to take the little one’s hand. Ah, responsible me. I know her well.

An older woman steps in next. She is well-groomed, neat and trim. Her hair is white, and obviously long, but caught up in a bun. Her face is long; not my face. I don’t know her.

“Welcome,” I say and she nods approvingly.

“Anyone else?”

A pregnant version of myself steps forward. Not the new mother me, but the woman expecting her third child. The established mother. She looks tired, but not unkind. She has brought her babies with her.

A shadow darts across the opening, then fades back into the dark corners of the cave. I try to see where it went and see a figure trembling there in the darkened crevices.

“Would you like to join us?” The figure is slightly hunched, hugging herself tightly. “Please.” The others reach out their hands towards her. She moves to the edge of the darkness. Her long hair looks tangled, dirty. Her eyes are cast down, I can’t see her face. It looks like she is holding a blanket around her. “If you are here, you are part of us,” I offer. “We’d like it if you’d join us.” She looks up and it startles me. The pain in her eyes it so real my breath sticks in my chest. She steps forward and I see she is naked under the blanket. She is my violated self. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Please come into the light. I want you here.” The others move to surround her.

The shadow darts again. Is that a little boy? I follow the movement. There is a tall, proud, Aboriginal woman. She is wearing some ceremonial costume, although nothing I recognize. She steps silently forward. I like her energy. Then three figures push out of the crowd to join in. They too are of different ethnicity and race. Arms locked like old friends they are laughing and jostling; a happy presence. Another woman pushes forward, directing a young boy before her – the darting shadow. He has a dishevelled mop of hair, and dark mischievous eyes, reminding of pictures of my father as a child. She is a big bear of a woman, very motherly, and obviously very much in control.

There’s a boy here? Are there any men? I wonder. I look around. Many faces still stand on the periphery, and yes some are men, but none have come forth….oh, wait a minute, here’s one. A whiff of pipe smoke hits me first. Very professorial. Tall, thin, with greying hair, and kind eyes. A thinker, I’m guessing. Another young man steps forward. Dressed immaculately, and carrying a case, he looks driven by ambition: fearless.

“Okay,” I say. “It looks like we could do this all night, but we need to begin. Can we get started?”

The big bear of a woman steps forward, with the little boy in tow. “The goal here is to find some harmony,” she states. “I think it would best if everyone could be heard. State your concerns, and also what you bring to the whole. I’ll start. I am Mother Earth. I believe in the unity of the whole, and am big and strong enough to hold us all together.”

Cool! I am liking this exercise.

The white-haired woman is next. “Well, I am wisdom, and I believe this can work also, but I am a little concerned about how ego is running the ship.” She looks directly at me. “We won’t live forever, you know; be a little mindful of how you take care of our body. Some exercise would go a long way.” I gulp. Yes ma’am, I’m thinking.

“What do you have to offer?” Mother Earth asks.

“Perspective,” is the response. “When the ego needs direction, and is willing to listen, I offer perspective.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Good to know.”

The professor tilts his pipe towards me. “Don’t forget intellect. You have a good mind. Use it. No concerns right now, as long as she keeps learning.” Fair enough.

My mother self just beams at me. She is happy that the babies are still coming.

The twelve-year-old, still coddling the little one, gets my attention. “Don’t forget us,” she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “How could I forget you?”

“But you do. You often do. We need care too. We need fun and new discoveries, and most of all we need love and affection. Well, not so much me, but the little one does.”

I have to smile, because I’m sure she means both of them. “Of course you do. Don’t I show it?”

“Not very often. You spend far too much time worrying about the future, and where the next dollar is coming from. You forget that we need attention and just to hang out sometimes.”

The little one nods, as if she understands. She puts out her arms and I hug her to me. She is so tiny, and pure. “You are precious,” I tell her. “I would never want to lose you.” She snuggles up and leans into me. I offer my hand to the twelve-year-old. “I would like for you to let me be the adult,” I tell her. “I appreciate everything you have done, you have a great sense of duty, but you also need to just be a kid.” The look she gives me is undecipherable. I look to Mother Earth for some direction. She nods at the younger me.

“Go ahead,” she says. “Tell her.”

“You have made promises to us that you do not keep. We don’t know what to believe. Little One needs to feel safe and secure, she needs you to be consistent.”

“What about you? What do you need?”

Her lip starts to tremble. Is that a flicker of anger I see behind her eyes.

“You can tell me.” I try to keep my tone calm, and reassuring, but my heart and mind are racing. “What have I done to this child? Then I understand. “Are you angry with me, or adults in general?” I ask. “I know you’ve been hurt by many.”

“I don’t know who to trust,” she begins. “I try and try to be good and make things better, but it’s like I don’t exist. It’s unfair.” The floodgates burst open. “I feel like I don’t matter. No one notices me. No one cares.” The little one runs to her and they hug again. “We need to know you care.”

“But I do care! Maybe I just don’t know how to show it. Please, help me to understand what you need.”

“When you were us you knew what you wanted. You promised that you would not put up with injustices, and you would make us count in the world. You also promised that we wouldn’t need anyone.”

“I know I did, Honey. But that is not a healthy response. Relationships are a natural part of life, and while I haven’t always been able to protect us from harm and abuse, I have made better choices, haven’t I? I do care very much about you, and I know you have been hurt.” There’s so much I want to say, but she does have a point. “I’m sorry.”

“And what about her?” They both glance in the direction of the young woman in the blanket. She is too wounded to be angry.

“I made a terrible mistake, and you suffered for it. I am so sorry. I don’t know how to lessen your pain.” Then, “Mother, I have stumbled through life, and made poor choices out of fear, anger, and impulsiveness. I see now that I have hurt all of us. How do we find alignment without trust? Have I ruined our chances?”

“Of course not, Child. There is always hope. This is a good beginning. We are talking, and you are listening.”

“I am listening, but I feel so responsible, and inadequate.”

“Oh, you are not inadequate; far from it.”

“What we need,” interjects the Warrior Princess, “is direction and leadership. You,” she is speaking to the young business man, “need to take a step back. While your ambition is appreciated, it is not always in line with the common good. Your energy and spirit are good, but you serve us better by working in the background. As for you,” she turns to the three friends, “your lightheartedness is wonderful, and we need you as a constant reminder of the need for tolerance and harmony. Young lady,” she says addressing the twelve-year-old. “You are mighty strong and that is admirable, but you are yet a child. I invite you to be open to the future instead of always fearing it. We need your youthful exuberance to power the movement. And you, Little One, you are indeed precious, and we never want to be without your sense of wonder and innocence. Professor, Wise Woman, you know your roles. Young mother, you are much appreciated right now with these new grandchildren coming. As for you, Young Man,” she turned to the little boy with the hair. “You have the very important role of looking out for possibilities. You have just the right amount of restlessness, coupled with curiosity and daring. Every good team needs that. Now there is just one more thing to do.” Opening her arms, she gestures for the crowd to form a circle around her, then she invites the wounded girl and myself to join her in the middle. Silently, she positions each of us facing one another. I offer my hand to the girl and she takes it. I clasp it to my heart.

“There is a lot of strength in this room, and I want you both to feel it.” Although the room has fallen silent, and the faces are all somber, we can sense the truth in what she is saying.

“There is also a lot of hope, and love in this room. Let that be with you, also.” We both take a deep breath in, and I can see her shoulders relax a little, though she still clutches her blanket to her.

“There is no movement within a community of blame, only heartache and pain. I want everyone here to release any blame that their heart may be holding. Take a deep breath in and as you let it go, release any blame with it. Replace the blame with love for the whole.” All chests rise on the inhale, and collectively we exhale a sigh of release. Breathing in again, we begin to feel lighter.

“You are so beautiful,” I tell my wounded self. “You didn’t deserve this. None of us did. We all hurt for you.” A murmur of agreement circles the room. “And we all pray for your healing.” The murmur becomes a rumble.

The Warrior Princess raises one hand in the air, placing her other palm on the Wounded One’s forehead. “You are not alone,” she says. “You must not carry the burden of this pain alone. Let us each take on our share of the burden and lighten this young woman’s load. Open your arms and receive her.” All bodies push forward to embrace the Wounded One in a massive hug of energy. From within the circle their is a heart-wrenching sob, then a flow of tears that passes from one self to the next until there is a palpable shift in the air. Then, as if on cue, everyone steps back into the circle, giving us room. Our eyes meet, and the most incredible thing happens. The young woman lets go of her blanket, and standing straight and proud reaches her hand out for mine, and clasps it to her heart. Her whole being shines with such radiance and light that I am not embarrassed by her nakedness. She is beautiful!

I am beautiful.

We are all beautiful.

And in that moment we are so wonderfully aligned that we feel the perfection of our being, and the miracle that is existence.

“Thank you, all.” I whisper, not wanting to break the reverie.

(Image: en.wikepedia.org)

On Wisdom

The difference between knowledge and wisdom is experience.

A young man once asked me if he could shadow me for a summer, so that he could learn from me. I asked him to tell me about his life.

“It’s good,” he replied.

“Tell me about a hardship that you have overcome.”

“None that I can think of. My life has been easy.”

“Are your parents together?”

“Well, no,” he explained. “They separated when I was fifteen.”

“That must have been hard.”

He shrugged. “That was about them. It wasn’t about me.”

He was a nice young man, and I believed him to be very sincere. “What will you do with your summer, if I say no.?”

“I was thinking I’d try to get a job at a resort up north.”

“That’s what I would recommend!”

His disappointment was visible. “But I want to help people; I want to do what you do.”

“Let’s look at this hypothetically. If someone came to you suffering from deep depression, how would you help them?”

“I would meditate on it and look for answers.”

“I see. And if none came?”

He had no response.

“Let me explain something,” I was starting to feel a little bit like David Carradine talking to Grasshopper. “Much of my ability to help another comes from life experience. In the case of depression, who do you think would be in a better position, someone who has lived through it and come out the other side, or someone who has meditated on the possibility?”

He didn’t need to answer.

“The best thing you can do for yourself right now is gather experience. Learn all that you can, too, but when your intellectual knowledge, meets your experienced knowing, then you will be ready.”

“How long will that take.”

I had to suppress a smile. I was impatient once too. “That depends on you. From where I stand, you have a ways to go.”

“Why’s that?” He looked offended.

“You haven’t even recognized the pain of your parents’ divorce. How can you help another deal with their wounds, when you haven’t looked at your own?”

“There is time for everything,” I said more gently. “Now is a time for gathering. Go North. You’ll learn much more there than I can ever teach you now.”

Calming Breath

Imagine being able to clear the clutter of your mind; to set aside all your thoughts, worries, obsessions, and just breathe. Imagine letting go of all the tension in your body; setting aside pain, and discomfort in favour of just being. Imagine the noise and distractions of everyday life just floating through you without sticking; your awareness not blocked, but heightened.

Through the practice of meditation, I have experienced this feeling of being suspended, at peace, in a state of harmony. It is calming, reassuring, refreshing. Reaching this place offers renewal, and at times, a sensation of bliss. It is amazing how, no matter how stressed, this state of being offers such relaxation, that it shifts perception.

Breathe deeply, slowly, and let your exhale carry the tension out of your body and mind. Take your time. Let thoughts flow in and out. Perceive them, and let them go. Everything that is important will be there later. Affirm it. It’s safe to set all thoughts aside.

Let your in breath fill you with clear, calming energy, washing over you, helping the out breath carry away the tension. Give your self permission to relax. Empty yourself, body, mind, and spirit. Surrender to the nothingness. Suspend your grasp on reality.

Just be.

Hints for success: Practice the same time each day. Create the opening. It doesn’t take long, it takes discipline. Practice in the same place, establishing a routine. One of my teachers suggested taking 2-3 minute intervals throughout the day where you stop and breath consciously. She said she would find a tree, and focus on that tree, imagining what it would be like to have roots that run deep into the earth, and branches that reach high into the sky, and bend with the breezes. She described it as strong, but calm, centered in peace.

Aside: I learned to meditate when my children were babies, which meant that the only place I could get any alone time was the bathroom. Meditating in the bathroom established a correlation that still exists today. Some of my best inspirations happen when I visit the bathroom.

(Image: quotesgram.com)