Sorry about last week’s slightly manic post. This week we will start with a restful meditation.
Close your eyes. No, open them again because you won’t be able to see this with your eyes closed. Fix your gaze on a faraway point. If you don’t have one, stare at the wall. Wait, don’t do that or you won’t be looking at the screen. Take a deep breath in. And out. And in. And out. Now, while still looking at the screen, imagine yourself somewhere peaceful. Strolling across a field on a summer’s day, for example. What do you mean it’s too hot? Turn down your mental thermostat or magic up a huge but lightweight bottle of water. In fact, don’t walk through a field. Imagine yourself in a swimming pool, drifting on an airbed with the distant sound of the sea in your ears. What’s that? You can’t swim and you’re afraid of drowning? Okay, let’s try something else.
You are sinking into a feather bed – oh. You’re allergic to feathers. Even imaginary feathers? I see. Even imaginary feathers. So now you are floating on a cloud high above the earth, drifting here and there. A gentle breeze keeps the air at your preferred temperature and you move at the exact speed that makes you comfortable. You turn your gaze to the sunset, which is every shade of pink, peach and orange. Your body relaxes, starting at the toes, working up to your ankles, then moving to your knees – What was that? You don’t like heights? Perfectly all right. The cloud has vanished and you are lying in a hammock, swinging to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. Breathe along, to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. Ah. It’s making you dizzy. Fine. No hammocks. No clouds, no feather beds, no swimming pools, no fields. What about a forest? No forests as you’re scared of the dark. And wild animals. And insects. Of course.
You are on a steep path in pouring rain. The soles of your shoes have come away from the uppers and your feet are wet. You have left your gloves at home, and you forgot to bring a waterproof. In fact, you’re wearing only a t-shirt and shorts as the weather forecast promised sun. As you scramble up the path, you slip in mud and tumble backwards, banging your head on a rock. You pass out and when you come to, you are in the back of an ambulance swaddled in an emergency foil blanket to keep you warm. Concentrate on the rough surface of the trolley and the dull pain in your arm where a drip has been inserted. Notice the way your body rises and falls as the ambulance goes over a speed bump. Listen to the wail of its siren and imagine you are in a queue of ambulances outside a hospital. Take a deep breath in, hold for a count of four, then out for a count of six. Try not to dislodge the oxygen prongs. Do not let the smell of vomit distract you, nor the chafing of the blood pressure cuff that cuts off your circulation every few minutes.
This is your time. Let everything go. Fill yourself with gratitude for all that life has given you. The concussion. The cracked ribs. The cold patch on your shorts where you wet yourself. Give yourself over to the healing power of the universe, even if you have to wait till tomorrow to get it.
There. Don’t you feel better now?
Sounds exactly like my attempts at meditation... imagine a black curtain.. but then I think it is hiding a famous picture or it’s held back by a rope of plaited gold silk or is it silver ... is it black velvet or blue and that of course leads in all other directions ...