I’ve know Brenda for a very long time. We often talk together about meditation and practice. She is a gem. A gem among gems. Who is not a gem, glowing in the darkness.
I’m always encouraging people to reflect, and writing can be a useful tool to aid reflection. In the process of writing new insights can emerge. Here is an example of reflection on experience and the emergence of understanding through the process of writing. OK, I did apply a bit of pressure to get her writing! As a correspondent mentioned in an email this morning, in response to asking her to start writing, I would like to give it a try (and sometimes pressure is good, innit?) She’s another natural.
You remember when we talked and I told you that I felt as if I had lost something, and I didn’t know what it was? Well, at the time we talked I couldn’t make any sense of this, and the temptation was to dismiss the whole thing as over-active imagination. It was an uncomfortable feeling you know, – to be aware that something integral had gone and to be unable to access it. You asked if this worried me and as I considered the question I realised that there was fear around and also a recognition that to go down that path would simply confuse the issue. As we talked I recognised my habitual tendency to spiral down (mentally and physically), so your suggestion, Think up! was very timely and I used it as a means of dealing with the disquiet and by the time I went home the feeling of loss had abated and I think I was enjoying the post-retreat period.
Yesterday a whole lot of stuff presented itself to be looked at. I realised that what I had lost was the internal dialogue and thus the persona who constantly wants to explain itself to itself, the whatever that never rests, that re-establishes itself on every re-awakening. Middle of the night awake, and almost before the feet touch the floor this internal ego-me is in dialog with itself, re-establishing its’ identity, re-recognising itself, re-assuring it-self that it still exists. I found my-self scrabbling around, trying to solidify, desperate to anchor itself. This is where it gets a bit difficult. It’s like I knew I’d lost something and it was frightening because I didn’t know what and now I knew and it was even more frightening because where had the familiar voice gone and how would I manage without it?
To add to the confusion is the recognition that without the internal voice there is peace, there is space. Once I had let the disquiet of not knowing go, every thing was OK. Now I know again and this time I have to find a way to embrace the so frightened me and be willing to let it go. And it is scary stuff and I know I may have gone too far in my thoughts. And I wonder if there is a connection here with the permeable being?
In answer to your question, yes I think it would be a good idea for you to further contemplate, what you have described to me in the past as the permeable being.
One thought on “Where Did I Go?”
Thanks, Brenda, for your precise description of the way in which our egos work at maintaining their belief in themselves. And also your description of what is beyond belief that comes to the forefront.
Your words inspire (in + spire = put breath/spirit into). I hope we hear more from you as you move into your inquiry about “permeable being”.
In gassho, Jim