Meditation is my maitri,

the ground spring of my loving kindness,

I don’t know how it started,

this sitting with myself,

although I know I’ve been seeking for as long as can remember.

 

Seeking a way out,

seeking a way forward,

seeking a refuge,

seeking a release from the chronic emotional engulfment,

that has my heart, like Mauriac’s, twisted,

into a knot of vipers.

 

From where did all this sorrow come?

From where did the dismay, the misery, the anger come?

From where did the regret and the ever present fear come?

Why do they even exist?

 

I do not know,

I can theorise, but I do not know.

Not knowing is most intimate.

 

I take myself by the hand,

with a cup of tea,

and sit on the cushion.

 

I calm my mind and body,

Aided by the warm sweet sips of Ceylon,

from a cup my daughter made me,

when there is no more tea to be sipped I close my eyes,

hands in lap,

legs crossed,

and place my attention upon the comings and goings of the breath.

 

This life giving breath,

this life giving breath,

in and out,

slow and calm,

here in the body,

the body sitting,

with all its sensations.

 

The mind dances,

popping up here, popping up there,

with its memories, grudges, hopes and wants.

 

Mind reflecting body,

body reflecting mind,

breath reflecting sensation,

sensation reflecting breath.

 

Who pays attention?

From where does that attention arise?

I do not know.

Not knowing is most intimate.

 

I come back,

to the comings and going of the breath,

like a mother takes a young child’s hand,

we sit together,

me and myself,

aware of the illusion.

 

I don’t try to make it happen,

but as I become fascinated with the breath,

this life giving breath,

in this miracle of a body,

on this luxurious simple cushion,

in this warm safe house,

my mind quietens down.

 

Awareness opens out,

the birds sing,

the wind whispers,

the house groans,

the car drives by,

the breath comes and goes.

 

A smile often appears on the face,

and the smile feels good,

it ripples out into the body as softening,

into the breath as a sigh,

happiness is available and I help myself.

 

Sometimes I giggle,

sometimes I cry.

 

But always I am with myself,

for this time each day,

learning how little I understand,

learning how limited and mistaken the illusions of the mind are,

learning acceptance of all that there is,

all that arises and then passes away,

coming and going,

just like the breath,

all the clouds in the sky,

all the reflections of the moon,

all the fingers pointing.

 

Sometimes I ask myself:

What is the feeling of being deeply loved?

Or some such question,

The mind knows it cannot answer,

So my body softens further in response,

And a warmness grows from the belly and the heart.

 

When the bell chimes and my sit is over,

I bow to the practice,

And take it with me,

the awe,

the awareness,

the softness,

the kindness,

in this moment,

of not knowing,

and not knowing is most intimate.