the most beautiful thing: pocket
I don’t meditate much for a Buddhist, I admit it. Tonight was a rarity. Tonight I rearranged a little space on my bureau for my candle and things and simply lit that candle. I lit it in honor of the peace and equanimity of enlightened mind, a mind expressed by so many before us and by many things of us now. I lit it and was drawn into my seat, quiet and reflective, the sadness in my heart more buoyant for the posture.
I must say goodbye to a dear loved one soon. He holds me in his arms and I am filled with a sadness so deep it pulls me closer to the ground and yet lifts me to a realm of the gods. It is a sadness so deep, it walks through the bottom of the depth back to the sky. It holds me in a way that no one on this planet could. It is grief and equipoise interlaced and waving back and forth, back and forth, on an axis that sits just shy of my heart. Inside it, inside this layer of warm sad joy is a nothing whose depth out-sinks and will out-live this sadness – can travel the deep and the sky and back again for many more lifetimes than we have been. I sit and I feel it, soft and light, full and empty inside the very core of me.
I try to sit my mind down inside this pocket of nothing and look out at the heavy winds around it. I float into it like a precious rose pedal so easy pulled out. I sift in and out of the layers of my thinking, moving, quaking heart and am found in its grace. I think, “Maybe, just maybe, I can live my life from here – looking out and curious, but not so terribly shaken.” I think and I am back in the room, a-buzz with my loved one, a-buzz with my wanting, a-buzz with my loss. I guess that’s why they call it “practice” – the practice of meditation – because it is like anything else that requires training and habit to sink into the bones. And so I will practice being in this pocket, this most beautiful, luminous, feather-light and sweet pocket… and some day, the loss may not shake me so close to breaking.