Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…
I got to spend a long weekend on a wilderness meditation retreat with friends just recently. So special. I’ve had many health problems over the last several years and this was my first overnight camping trip in over three years. I was excited like a little kid. Exploring new country. And best of all, with the focus on meditation.
Very early on we were invited to make the focus of our meditation “where we were” instead of our breathing. Although we were on the dry side of the mountains, it still is such a lush green. Thick forest. Walking along a high ridge we had views in all directions on the approach. I’m old and slow these days. So walking meditation was pretty easy to settle into. I just don’t have the body to get swept away into “getting there.” I pretty much have to be “here” to make hiking work. Paying close attention to my breath, my heart and my feet and knees. Soon I was adding hearing and touch to my awareness. That special quality of mountain air in my lungs and on my body. The wind in the trees. In my hair and ears. The silence compared to my usual city life. Here the call of some bird. The feel of high mountain sun on my face and neck. The stunning visual of green abundance. Trying to not break it down into this kind of tree and that kind of tree, but just noticing place. Forest. Life. The bigger picture. Noticing the experience of this place. Experiencing life.
Settling into a meditative walk soon got us to camp. A small pond just below the ridge. Two campsites. One for eating, sleeping and visiting. The other for silence and a more formal practice. We soon settled in and began our retreat.
Early sits were quiet and serene. Endorphins do that do me. But it didn’t take long for the knots in my head to begin to reassert themselves into consciousness. Pretty soon I was wrestling with the same demons I wrestle with at home. Blaming and criticizing. Judging and wanting. Struggling and suffering. And I was reminded of loving kindness. Sending and receiving. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… The support of practice. Breathing it in. Breathing it out. Settling into an easier place.
During one sit I was enjoying the sounds of forest. Of forest life. Birds calling from trees. A squirrel rustling in the leaves. Foraging for food I assume. Barking little warnings and hellos. And then a sudden sharp rustle. And whimpers fading into quiet. Someone else foraging for food had found the squirrel. My awareness opened a bit. Gratitude for not being in the food chain. And a bit more. Or was I? Seeing, taking in the trees of the forest. Tall standing green ones. Horizontal decaying ones. I tried to find something that wasn’t in the process of feeding or being fed. Decaying or growing. That chain I was a part of. Death supporting life. Sitting there I had the experience of being supported in life. And the question of how do I support that chain of living. Noticing that I wanted to know. And then realizing that it just was so. I was part of and both being supported and supporting. In mysterious ways that I often don’t understand or even notice. For some reason that day I felt it instead of thought it.
Walking out the next day, slowly and carefully uphill. Feeling my feet touch the ground with each step. I realized that the sensations in my body were not too different from those of caressing a lover. Tender. Loving. Thankful. Soon after noticing, it became something I was trying to continue to create and I lost it. But for a moment there was a deep loving of life.
I got to spend a long weekend on a wilderness meditation retreat with friends just recently. So special. I’ve had many health problems over the last several years and this was my first overnight camping trip in over three years. I was excited like a little kid. Exploring new country. And best of all, with the focus on meditation.
Very early on we were invited to make the focus of our meditation “where we were” instead of our breathing. Although we were on the dry side of the mountains, it still is such a lush green. Thick forest. Walking along a high ridge we had views in all directions on the approach. I’m old and slow these days. So walking meditation was pretty easy to settle into. I just don’t have the body to get swept away into “getting there.” I pretty much have to be “here” to make hiking work. Paying close attention to my breath, my heart and my feet and knees. Soon I was adding hearing and touch to my awareness. That special quality of mountain air in my lungs and on my body. The wind in the trees. In my hair and ears. The silence compared to my usual city life. Here the call of some bird. The feel of high mountain sun on my face and neck. The stunning visual of green abundance. Trying to not break it down into this kind of tree and that kind of tree, but just noticing place. Forest. Life. The bigger picture. Noticing the experience of this place. Experiencing life.
Settling into a meditative walk soon got us to camp. A small pond just below the ridge. Two campsites. One for eating, sleeping and visiting. The other for silence and a more formal practice. We soon settled in and began our retreat.
Early sits were quiet and serene. Endorphins do that do me. But it didn’t take long for the knots in my head to begin to reassert themselves into consciousness. Pretty soon I was wrestling with the same demons I wrestle with at home. Blaming and criticizing. Judging and wanting. Struggling and suffering. And I was reminded of loving kindness. Sending and receiving. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… The support of practice. Breathing it in. Breathing it out. Settling into an easier place.
During one sit I was enjoying the sounds of forest. Of forest life. Birds calling from trees. A squirrel rustling in the leaves. Foraging for food I assume. Barking little warnings and hellos. And then a sudden sharp rustle. And whimpers fading into quiet. Someone else foraging for food had found the squirrel. My awareness opened a bit. Gratitude for not being in the food chain. And a bit more. Or was I? Seeing, taking in the trees of the forest. Tall standing green ones. Horizontal decaying ones. I tried to find something that wasn’t in the process of feeding or being fed. Decaying or growing. That chain I was a part of. Death supporting life. Sitting there I had the experience of being supported in life. And the question of how do I support that chain of living. Noticing that I wanted to know. And then realizing that it just was so. I was part of and both being supported and supporting. In mysterious ways that I often don’t understand or even notice. For some reason that day I felt it instead of thought it.
Walking out the next day, slowly and carefully uphill. Feeling my feet touch the ground with each step. I realized that the sensations in my body were not too different from those of caressing a lover. Tender. Loving. Thankful. Soon after noticing, it became something I was trying to continue to create and I lost it. But for a moment there was a deep loving of life.
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