I don’t remember exactly how old I was–somewhere between the age where I was old enough to remember and understand but not too old to have lost my sense of wonder and amazement–my family went on a vacation to Carlsbad Caverns National Park.

The day we visited we took the tour which started at the natural entrance to the cave. It was like walking into the maw of giant beast. I remember my mom not being too keen on this, she not being the most adventuresome of spirits, but my dad and I loved it. How could we have resisted the lure of a labyrinth of caverns with names like The Hall of the Giants, The Temple of the Sun, and the Queen’s Chamber. How could we have not be enticed by a malachite-colored pool called the Green Lake and watching sleeping bats hang from the ceiling. (There is even a place in the caverns called The Rookery, which should resonate with my SFC writing buddies.)

When we finally reached the lowest point of the known portion of the caverns (the caverns are still being explored even to this day), the tour guide wanted us to experience first hand the total absence of light. Even though she turned out the lights for probably less than 30 seconds, I became anxious and I grabbed on to my mom’s hand for comfort. To this day, I can still “feel” the blackness. It had form and shape and oozed over me like some creature from the depths. I felt like I was suffocating. Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it another second, the tour guide flipped the lights back on. We finished our tour with a picnic lunch in the caverns and a ride up an elevator to the surface.

What is my point in telling you this story? I haven’t thought about this trip in decades, but just yesterday the memory of it percolated to my consciousness when one of my online writing colleagues offered this prompt about descending into The Tholos, an ancient building in Greece, a place with restorative power. At the time, my descent into the darkness of the Caverns was simply a vacation experience; today I draw upon it for lessons in coping with the dark times that descend from time-to-time.

There is a need to go into the darkness so we can experience the beautiful and awesome things that reside just below the surface. We need to experience the Darkness so we can better appecreciate the Light. When we go through dark times, we can experience the blessing of reaching out and taking another’s hand to guide and comfort us. If you are going through a dark time now, know that always, ALWAYS, the light will come back on.

It is the way of things.

Lori G. (c) 2008

Cavern Lake

The Rookery 

Images by Peter Jones through the courtesy of the US National Park Service. 

This clip is from Good Morning America for your information………..

Healthy Diet Could Help Prevent Cancer

Basho was a famous Japanese poet.  Take a few minutes a step into his world:

Lori G. (c) 2008

If you need a bit of a breather from the hustle and bustle of your day, take a virtual stroll through my friend Grace’s garden.  It will truly soothe your soul:

Lori G. (c)  2008

The second day of the meditation workshop started with a review of the points we learned last week and everyone was given a chance to speak about their meditation practice during the week. I explained that I had made a meditation space of found objects in my home: a tea light in a cobalt blue glass container, placed on a mat in the middle of my coffee table. I also explained that I used a bead bracelet as a breath-counting device. I managed several 10 minute meditations during the week.

Then instructor then gave a brief overview of the tenets and practices of Buddhism: The Four Noble Truths and the Eight-Fold Path with emphasis on the practice of meditation. She explained that Buddhist meditation is used to cultivate mindfulness; that is, an awareness of the body, the emotions, and our thoughts, and to discover the relationship between what we think and what we experience. A couple of examples of Buddhist meditation practices include Vipassana, from India, a technique that watches and categorizes thoughts, and Zen, from China and Japan, which incorporates ritual acts into the meditation practice.

Our first exercise of the day involved both a moving meditation in the center’s garden followed by a sitting meditation in the chapel where we would employ the Buddhist Vipassana technique of categorizing thoughts.

The instructor demonstrated how to do a walking meditation which requires a slow and exaggerated heel-ball-toe stepping motion. We formed a line and followed her out the door into the terraced meditation garden. It took me a moment to get the foot movement established and I realized it was not that much different from the movements I had been taught by my tai chi master. It proved to be a little more difficult to walk when we stepped off the path onto gravel. I focused my attention on exhaling with each downward step and visualizing my energy going down through each foot to connect with the center of the earth. In that way, I was able to feel balanced and stable on the shifting gravel.

I want to note that in the center of the garden is a statue of the nine muses of Greek mythology. As we walked we circled around this statue. This is personally significant to me because I am part of an online writing group that frequently utilizes the motif of the muses to inform our conversations about writing and creativity. I felt that my undergoing studies in meditation practices was being validated by the creative force of the universe.

After about 10 minutes of walking, the instructor lead us into the chapel where we did a sitting meditation. As I sat there looking at the stained glass window, I noticed my thoughts being directed forward into the future. I started asking myself questions. What will I do with this meditation practice? Which technique will work for me? Can I adhere to a disciplined life of meditation? What should I have for lunch?   This is an example of categorizing thoughts.  Some people dwell on the past or the present.

The exercise ended when the instructor rang some chimes and we broke for a short break. I spent the break journaling about my experience and reviewing some of the texts she had brought for us to look at. When we reconvened she began the section on Christian meditation.

The first item she covered was the text, “The Way of the Pilgrim,” written by an unknown Russian man in the mid 19th century. In brief, the text explains the use of the Jesus Prayer as a mantra coordinated with the breath during meditation. The Jesus Prayer has several variations from the complex: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” to the most minimalist version, “Jesus, Mercy.” The instructor started us on a 10 minute meditation using this prayer in silent recitation. I have to admit that I found it very hard to use this prayer as a mantra as my mind wanted to dwell on the meaning of the words in the prayer.

Next the instructor gave us a brief overview of the practices of Lectio Divina, which means “Divine Reading.” Basically, this is a rumination on the bit of text with the goal of the reader becoming absorbed into the text and experiencing the divine presence. The instructor provided us with the text of the St. Francis prayer. I chose to meditate on the first line, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.” We were instructed to use any of the techniques taught to us. Most of the workshop participants chose to sit in the chapel, some in the garden, and a couple, including myself, chose a moving meditation. I started by walking through the garden and then doing a standing meditation in a manner that I had learned from my tai chi master. I began by silently reciting the first line of the prayer over and over. After a few minutes, my mind was directed to a situation in my life where I was not being an instrument of peace. This lead me to make a resolution concerning my actions in this situation.

After the instructor ended the exercise, we had an opportunity to discuss the experience. I can’t say that during this particular exercise that I achieved a sense of the Divine Presence but I can see the potential of this happening after some practice.

We wrapped up our time together by discussing what we wanted to do with the techniques we had learned. The instructor suggested that we find a trusted person who can act as a “spiritual director” to guide us as we practice our meditation.

I left the workshop with a lot of questions to research and a new desire to re-tool my spiritual practice to include a quiet time for meditation.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.

Text and images:  Lori G. (c) 2008

Back in the early 90’s I began studying Tai Chi Chuan and Qi Gong and did so for several years. As a result of these moving meditations, I did pick up the basics of meditative breathing and mindfulness. Over the years I have fallen away from the practice and am on the verge of forgetting the Form altogether. Wanting to regain some of the meditative benefits, I enrolled in an introductory meditation workshop. Maybe I will be more disciplined in sitting meditation rather than a moving one.

The first session was this past Saturday. It took place in a lovely meditation center complete with a chapel and an outdoor garden. The instructor is a certified yoga teacher and spiritual director. The first meeting involved yoga meditation and next week we will explore Christian and Buddhist meditative practices. The workshops will provide an overview of meditation, a smorgasbord of meditation techniques from which the participants will sample.

After introductions by the instructor and students, we engaged in a ten minute meditation, eyes closed, focusing on the inhale and exhale of breath. We were instructed to let intruding thoughts drift by, as if they were boats on a river. However, I struggled with this and quite frankly I actually visualized myself getting on the boat and drifting all the way down the river to the sea. Also, I felt a great deal of tension in my jaw, neck, arms and chest. This was not going to be as easy as I thought; however, I am pleased to say that after a few minutes, I did reach a certain level of calm awareness.

We spent the next segment learning about the Eight-Limbs of Yoga as articulated by a yoga master named Pantanjali. I learned from this that there is a coherent philosophy behind yoga meditation that is not uncommon to western practices of prayer and contemplation.

The next exercise involved a 30 minute composite of techniques, starting with counting breaths, alternating breaths through each nostril, and inhaling with a rolled tongue (“sitali,” or “straw breath”). We were then sent away either to sit in the garden or in the chapel and focus our eyes on an object near us. I went inside the chapel and chose the reflection of colored light from a stained glass window on the wooden floor. I found it difficult to keep my eyes open. They felt heavy as if I were falling asleep and I fought to keep from dozing off. I did notice after a few minutes of observing the light patterns on the floor that the markings of the wood grain seemed to become clearer and actually separate from the floor, creating an almost three-dimensional affect. Our instructor ended this segment with the ringing of a chime which seemed inordinately loud to me.

After taking a short break to partake of snacks of tangerines and almonds brought by the instructor, we reconvened and reviewed what had taken place. The instructor also handed out some articles from yoga journals and we looked over those as well.

For our final meditation exercise of the day, we engaged in 20 minutes of gazing at lit candles in the chapel. The instructor also asked each of us to think of a word or phrase that had meaning to us and to repeat it over and over in our minds as we inhaled and exhaled. At first I tried sitting on a meditation cushion but this put too much strain on my lower back so I moved to a chair. Once again, I had trouble keeping my eyes open and focused on the flame. My guess is that I will be meditating with my eyes shut most of the time.

After this exercise we had a short time of review and were assigned homework. By next week, we are to create our own meditation space, read the articles, and engage in at least 10 minutes of meditation three or four times this week experimenting with the techniques we were taught. Next Saturday’s session will deal with Buddhist meditation and Christian meditation, specifically the “Lectio Divina.”

I left the class feeling physically tired and bit light-headed. Additionally, I have to admit that I was a bit irritable for the rest of the day and today as well. At first I was a bit puzzled by this. I expected to leave feeling calm and serene. Then I recalled with the instructor had said at the start of the class—that the purpose of meditation is not to become more relaxed, although this is a side effect. The main purpose of meditation is to see reality more clearly. It is to remove “the gunk” as she put it, ‘and lift the veil” so we can see our lives with clarity.

I have to admit, in spite of the emotional “gunk” coming to the surface, I am looking forward to this new adventure in meditation.

Text and Image: Lori G. (c) 2008

Madrona is a vernal marsh which means that it is dry as a bone in the summer and fall, but when the winter rains come, it fills up and becomes quite lovely. The amazing thing is that it is smack in the middle of a urban setting. There is a giant shopping mall across the street.

We have reached the end of this series and are left with one last affirmation: Seek wisdom. Wisdom is a “knowing”. It is a using all of our perceiving faculties to gain and prudently apply knowledge to our lives. We reach it by seeking outside of ourselves. It could be by reaching out to individuals or communities, connecting to the creative power of the universe, or communing with the divine Person. By seeking wisdom, we become whole. We become one with the universe. So today, take a moment to reach out to the “Other,” be that a person, a community, or God. Talk, meditate, or pray. Do it and be whole.

Peace.

Image and Text: Lori G. (c) 2008

“Discernment”

It is said that discernment is a divine gift.  It is what we use to tell truth from lies.  It aids us in navigating our lives.  It is our intuition. It is a way of seeing those things which are not visible.    Discernment fuels the imagination and takes us on flights of pure fancy.   Since the dawn of the Enlightenment age, when our perceptions of the world became based on science, our ability to perceive the non-tangible has become compromised.   Take a step back and examine your ability to discern.  When was the last time you sat under a tree and daydreamed?  Let yourself take a mental holiday.  Use your imagination to hurl you into space or under the sea or to whatever fantasy realm you enjoy.  Let your intuition be your eyes.  Affirm today that you will truly “see.”

Image and text:  Lori G. (c) 2008