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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

A Winding Ribbon Ripples

More and more of late, I pause in the middle of doing one of the myriad tasks in my day and feel a magic carpet of rippling tingles vibrating deep within me. Eckhart Tolle, in his book, A New Earth, would say I am sensing my inner space. Mind-boggling and delicious, this sensing of my inner space is akin to a feeling of utter well being, of knowing that everything is as it is and all is as it should be. I am literally being animated from the inside out, an invisible energy flooding me with unadulterated joy.

Each time I feel it, I realize all over again the bliss of knowing that I am eternally connected to the Divine with a visceral realization far deeper than mere concepts can convey. Far deeper than what it might mean to recall a Biblical verse in a time of perceived peril or a line from a favorite poem when I need to be poetically galvanized or a delectable scene from a treasured novel during those times I want to be plunged sensually into another time and place.

Sometimes I close my eyes to more clearly feel the ripples, which reminds me of hanging on to the crossbar of a roller coaster car, the wind slicking back my locs, eyelashes bunched on my cheeks, a frozen smile plastered across my face. To someone on the ground, I might appear to be praying for the ride's end. But, inside, I'm basking in wondrous waves of exultation, fingers clutching steel to fully feel the flow of pure energy.

At other times, my eyes are saucers, round and watchful, alert, like my body, quietly waiting to give itself to the quivering. I am patient, but it comes, it seems, faster, when I inhale deep, luxurious breaths and exhale them in slow, calming exhalations. I air myself in the same way Sabelah, my Bosnian neighbor, tirelessly flaps throw rugs in front of the family's condo every morning. No matter what drama shifts and changes incessantly at the forefront of my life, as long as I remember to honor Presence, the energy that is Consciousness remains consistently unchanging. Some spiritual teachers refer to it as Awareness or Love. Whatever you term it, it is the Universal intelligence behind all that is, behind the seen and the unseen.

I am waking to Consciousness and its power to lift me on a winding, rippling ribbon that holds me in comfort and security and ecstasy, in the ever present now. For me, it's been a process. Not a single epiphany of insight, as it may be for others. My experience has been bursts of extended awareness, of Consciousness opening itself and allowing me to perch on an invisible windowsill, taking everything in as a Silent Observer, awed at the Divine opening me to Presence.

Now that I think about it, I am not only gently riding that winding ribbon rippling. In a very real sense, I am that winding ribbon. Yes, I am opening to an indelible truth. Simply put, I AM. Same as I posted on my Facebook wall a few days back. It was my spiritual experience. Nothing followed the words, for the nouns that might have followed would have been mere form. Concepts. Thoughts of how I envisioned myself in my mind, where my Ego sits high and looks low, poised to jet from its throne to right any affront something or someone may have brought against it. And if affronts aren't bountiful in the present moment, the ego will help itself to re-lived ones, of course, in the past and ever fertile ones that may occur in the future.

One day I'll write in more detail regarding this journey of my unique awakening to Consciousness. Right now, my right eye is complaining. Again, my body rails against staying up all night. It knows I will be cranky in the morning, when I rise earlier than usual to prepare for traffic court. Aaah! Another adventure in this golden life. But, hilariously, Thursday is right now, as the clock on this computer says 2:13 AM. While I was lost in doing the small things, (passionately crafting mental concepts into language and going downstairs to pour myself remaining sips of my orange tea), Thursday morning crept into my space.

Her Valentine's basket serenaded me with assorted teas and chocolates, a beautiful lavender candle (my favorite), a cute chocolate fuzzy bear and a red, leather-bound JOURNAL. If I reach for the dictionary on the carpet behind me and locate the word "thoughtful," I'll meet her before Friday, when we go for green tea and plum wine.....

It's strange. My intent with this posting was to write about the lovely anticipation of meeting a woman, whom I have never physically met, although she informed me in aurally vibrant narration, that we exchanged a "Good evening" nod at a Charis reading for an anthology in which my work was published. Could she be a winding ribbon rippling into my now? The anticipation of our first hello is frothy with champagne bubbles. I talk. She talks. We share. Laugh. Watch our roads diverge and converge. In lyrical Friday evening conversations. Perceptive, a few times piercingly so though never painfully, she is aware of my presence and falling away, in the briefest of moments. Do I like that? Hmmm. Gingerly bringing my attention to the disconnect, she takes my hand and guides me back to myself, to our talk. So, yes. Claro que si. A mi me gusta.

February 25, 2010