In March I began to meditate regularly. I sit in one of two places. The big red chair on the patio, or the tan swivel chair in the family room. I glance at the clock before taking a long deep breath and closing my eyes. There are no hard and fast rules how long I will stay put. But it’s interesting to note that as months have passed I’m able to empty my mind far more easily and remain sitting breathing for greater periods of time.
Natalie Goldberg in her terrific book Writing Down the Bones refers to the crazy that wants to usurp serenity as “monkey mind.” Mine is “small-brown-hamster-on-the-wheel” mind. When I first began the practice of mediation that rodent on the wheel inside my skull stubbornly refused to stop running. Now she is readily lulled to sleep as I gently inhale and exhale.
My breathing gives way to talking to God. I have had different versions of God in my mind. In March I described God as a “benevolent force.” Now my God is a horse. A tall shiny chestnut with a white star between her eyes. I ride in an easy chair saddle with wide armrests and a soft back. The fabric feels like velveteen. Very sensual my saddle. Sometimes there is a sunshade attached to the chair.
Occasionally God Horse pauses to graze or drink from streams. That’s when I reach into the magic side saddle that comes up with daily cream cheese sandwiches on gluten free bread. Plus single serving size bottles of Pinot Noir. God Horse and I happily relax and fuel ourselves.
God Horse has no bridle or reins. She rambles at will. When she stops, looks over her shoulder and nickers a bit, I know I’m supposed to dismount. There is something here God Horse intends me to do.
Curiously my easy chair saddle disappears when I get down. Dismounts are done from a bareback God Horse. I slide down her wide flanks, land lightly, lean into her neck and smell her fine horsey scent. What I do in each place varies. I do what she intends until she signals it’s time to move on. She paws the ground with her right hoof and gives a little whinny. Our work here is done, she’s telling me. I mount again, my chair is back. Off we go. Today she wandered through a small clear mountain stream.
Once we ended up in a rushing river. I had to hold tightly to her mane and trust she would get us both safely to dry land. I talk to her. She never speaks back, she simply keeps wandering. It feels random to me. I suspect she knows exactly where she is headed. I love giving the power over to God Horse. It frees me up to look around, take in the details. I notice squirrels bustling in oak trees, sun reflecting off rippling water, the scent of distant rain.
When at last I bend over and wrap my arms around her neck, I know it’s time to leave her, stop my meditation, open my eyes and start my day. All this happens without ever leaving my red or tan chairs. Once I open my eyes it takes a moment for me to orient myself. My limbs are heavy, my mind at peace.
Oddly enough, even after the meditation ends, God Horse seems present for the rest of the day. Since beginning the wonderful meditation journey my former habit of worrying has ceased to exist. I have absolute faith all will go as it is intended to go. Lovely to drop the reins, ride along and enjoy the abundance that is my life.