On Contemplating the Meditative State

I was recently on a cross country flight. I had three transfers and by the time I boarded my last plane I was already exhausted. I usually request an aisle seat to accommodate my gangly legs, but due to a weather rescheduling, I was seated near the window. I sat next to a fragrant, unkempt man and just behind an enamored couple who couldn’t seem to wait until they reached their final destination’s hotel room to express their affection. My long legs were crazily cramped and I was in the full state of crankiness before the plane even left the ground. As the elevation rose, so did my irritation. I couldn’t wait to get off the plane I had just boarded, but finally convinced myself that the flight was short and it would all be over soon enough. I buried myself in my magazine, grumbling.

After we had reached altitude, I briefly pried my eyes away from my mindless magazine so the flight attendant could hand me my drink. Before turning back to deepening distraction, I happened to glance out the window. I saw deep crevices that stretched out for miles. It was breathtaking. “Is that the Grand Canyon?” I asked incredulously. “Yes, it is,” he responded casually. He apparently sees this marvel every day, but the flight immediately changed for me. I stared out my window, my magazine sliding forgotten down my seat. Miles swept by as I sat slowly sipping my drink, savoring the grandeur of nature displayed below me. What I saw out of my tiny porthole to the universe was remarkable. I realized I was up in the air tens of thousands of feet and yet the canyon seemed to go on forever. I studied the flowing turns, the mighty crevices etched into the rock over eons of time by a mighty river that from my perspective looked like a simple, flowing stream. Grace. Beauty. Wonder. Truly a canyon that could be called nothing short of grand.

As the plane began its descent, my mind again became rooted in reality, but one that had become altered somehow. As soon as I had uttered the words, Grand Canyon, I became oblivious to all of my immediate surroundings once I was focused on beauty. In an instant, I experienced feelings of calm and childlike wonder. My immediate irritations fled and I felt gratitude for the privilege of witnessing one of nature’s mighty miracles from such a unique perspective.

In that moment I understood a little better the beauty of being in a constant meditative state. It is not found only by becoming completely disengaged from present surroundings. It does not always require one to ignore humanity and close the eyes in a quiet, darkened room. In many instances the meditative state is one of choosing to be truly aware. As I sat on a soaring plane, I chose to fully observe my present circumstances. I could have become so entangled in my irritability that I would have missed the view of a lifetime.

The irony is that the canyon would have been there the whole time, whether I had chosen to see it or not.

On Humility

So, how do you graciously give a reading of a poem you have written about pride without being prideful? Don't worry - God has it covered. First, He'll be sure to schedule your reading at the same time as the Winter Olympics and a Billy Joel concert and in the same venue as a world famous dance performance. Then He'll send you a zit the size of Texas right in the middle of your forehead that refuses to be concealed with makeup. Lastly he'll make sure that your husband is sitting firmly on your skirt so that as you go to stand up in front of a room full of people, you have a split second where you are certain the entire audience will know whether or not you remembered to put a slip on that morning.

How to effectively teach a lesson on how to not be prideful? Never fear - He has it all under control.

The Business of Busy-ness

Life sure seems to get in the way sometimes. I heard once that I should be grateful for all the experiences I have in life that distract me from my writing because they give me something to write about. I wonder if that means when I am eighty I will finally find some quiet time to work on the projects that keep haunting me. You see, I have all these ideas floating around in my mind. They speak to me at random times, while I'm rinsing dishes or stirring soup or folding laundry, and I worry that if I don't capture them now while they are dancing freshly in my mind that they will wander off into the dark and scrambled recesses of my mind and disappear forever.

So I keep my laptop handy. I try to carve out a couple of hours here and there when I can. But mostly I hope - I hope that when the chaos of everyday life settles to the point where I find myself without busy children and schedules running amok the glimmers of light and inspiration will still be there.

Off to fold the laundry. Pirouette anyone?