Tag Archives: Nirvana

Unicorny?

I was walking along a narrow path deep within a forest. The path was carpeted with pine needles that padded my footsteps and smelled of Christmas. I could hear birds chirping above me in the branches of the trees, their rich green leaves filtering the soft sunlight, making dappled patterns on the delicate plants and tiny flowers that covered the ground. Overhead were soft, cumulus clouds forming shapes that defied imagination: an eagle feather, a jack-in-the-box, a marshmallow bunny, a sesame seed bagel. There was a light scent of jasmine dancing on the warmth of a breeze.  Coming from what seemed a great distance, I could just barely hear the kind of music that makes you want to close your eyes and feel the life force flowing through your skin and into your bones and muscle and out again, back into the endless energy of the universe.

nirvana

As I followed a curve in the path that skirted a large gray rock flecked with gold that glinted in the sunlight, I emerged into a small clearing. At its center stood a shining pink unicorn nibbling on some yellow buttercups. At the sound of my step, she looked up, tossed her long white mane and tilted her silver horn in greeting. I reached out and gently stroked her delicate muzzle, felt the curve of bone in her powerful jaw, gave her a light scratch between her twitching ears and drew the tips of my fingers along her magnificent brow. She winked at me, as if to say, “Yes. This is real. I am real. You have found nirvana.”

And then I woke up. There was no unicorn, no gentle sunlight, no breeze, no birds, no buttercups. It was cold in the room and still raining as it has been, off and on, for the past three months. The only sound I could hear was the shriek of a motorcycle tearing apart the neighborhood’s peaceful Sunday evening silence. And I still felt just as awful as I had when I fell asleep.

Then I looked down at my hand and saw, resting on my fingertip, one sparkling pink eyelash. I smiled and then I sneezed. When I opened my eyes, it was gone. But I choose to believe it was there, just as I choose to believe in nirvana and I choose to believe that it will someday stop raining and I choose to believe a lot of things I can’t really put into words but carry around with me, some version of hope, a tendril of faith in the power of elves and fairies, a knowing in my soul that there are some universal truths and I just have to find the strength to see them.

The sun will rise again tomorrow and I will open my eyes to see it. For now, that’s enough.

Om Feeling Better

PENTAX DIGITAL CAMERA

This morning was day 45 of my meditation journey. I sit on a cushion in front of a window and look at Meditation Cat until my eyes close and I sink into myself seeking calm and space and rest.

I was lost at first, but now I want to do the practices, even need to. I’ve never been a morning person, but find myself waking up extra early on work days so I can practice before I leave. I’m becoming greedy for that feeling of peace. When I can’t find it, I feel sad, frustrated. For the rest of the day, it feels like my socks are inside out and my ponytail is too tight.

But then there are brief moments when nirvana opens its limpid eyes and glances at my soul. Those are moments of pure bliss, of lightness and freedom and I want to laugh out loud. On the flip side, those moments are sometimes followed by equally brief but equally powerful bursts of pure emotion, often grief, and I want to sob.

Grief, regret, sadness, pain: none of these feelings do my spirit or the world any good. While I cannot deny their substance and reality, I can refuse to let them control me. I’m learning to embrace those feelings, acknowledge their existence, give them a hug and a scratch behind the ears, and then let them go, pushing them gently out into the universe where they can burst apart like sparkling fireworks and return their energy to the universal all. Perhaps in time that energy can learn to look for more positive directions.

For the longest time, I thought only truly stupid people could be truly happy, but I think there’s more–and less–to it than that.

I am unlikely to ever go vegan or worship crystals or wear clothing made of hemp, but have decided to heed the wise words of Meditation Cat:

We are only as miserable as we allow ourselves to be.