Some Sundays I meditate with a group of delightful people. We circle up, read a devotion, meditate for 12-15 minutes, read the devotion again, and share our thoughts if we so chose. I always look forward to joining this time of relaxation and reflection when I can.
A few week's ago, the flow of group was slightly different. Prior to our time of meditation, our leader gave us one instruction, "think of a mountaintop and focus on that." There were some other things said, but my ego obsessed brain could only think, I have tried to connect with God on mountains and failed. In fact, I found God in the desert, so this was a stretch for me. Furthermore, when I meditate I place myself kayaking a river cutting through tree-lined banks, the sun shining ahead of me my focus. When something distracts me, I toss it into the water. If it floats back I hold on to it for later.
One would rightfully think that the magnitude of a mountain overlooking the vastness of the world below would do the trick too. For me, though, seeing the winding roads that deliver you to the summit (of course not all can be driven up) is more resplendent. But alright, meditation is not all about me, I can try new things, so to the mountain I will go!
I wasn't expecting to find myself in front of the Great Pyramids of Giza, mountains in their own right. Made by human hands (or are they???), but mountains, none the less.
As my eyes closed to search for a mountain I found myself transported 17 years ago to the outskirts of Cairo, walking across the packed sand up to one of the great pyramids. As I retraced my steps, my mind marveled at the magnificence of these structures. The foundation stones came up to my shoulder, and in my wonder and amazement, I swung my arm up over the ledge and leaned up against this marvel. As I did so, I looked up into the blue sky, shading my eyes to the sun rays that bathed the peak. I was there again, in that moment. Then, as if it never happened, it was over.
Emptiness surrounded me; darkness overcame me. There was no fear, just peace. Where was I?
As I looked around, I began to see I was in the pyramid. The pyramids are not hollow, but for some reason this one was. The edges of each corner pulsated in tandem in an upward motion, as though pumped by a neon blue heart. And there, where the capstone should have been, was the most brilliant white light. I stood in this space, mesmerized, and the words escaped my lips, "the heart of the divine."
A few minutes later, the bell rang, and the reflections began. When it was my turn to share, I told them what I saw, what I felt, and how I fled back to the room. Then it became clear: even though I couldn't get back, I was still in the presence of the holy. While the pulsing blue edges were beautiful, I knew instinctively they represented the hearts of those in the room... Connected in this space and time, our hearts beating together as one to reach the heart of the divine. Our minds and our energy combined to reach this collective consciousness. And it was glorious.
-----
Later that night, I almost convinced myself that because I was exhausted, perhaps I had found myself in the liminal space where consciousness and dreams meet. Isn't that just so human of me, to discredit an experience that can only be described as mystical, as Holy? I've chosen to not rationalize it because I don't really understand what happened. What I know is I felt peace, and isn't that what God promises?
4/13/2024 - today I caught up on my Richard Rohr devotions and Monday's devotion was about our tendency to be cynical when it comes to the spiritual. You can read guest writer James Finley's reflection HERE.
.png)
No comments:
Post a Comment