I once heard a Buddhist
prayer/meditation at the end of a yoga class. There were maybe six of us in the class and it was dark outside. The only light came from the candlelight in the room and a string of clear-colored Christmas lights draped lengthwise from one corner of the ceiling to the other. After a semi-arduous workout, followed by Savasana, or corpse pose, we had a short meditation. Savasana pose is a relaxing posture which allows your body to completely relax of any tension. During this pose, my mind will usually either go to a blissfully thought-free zone or, other times, I can be pretty aware of my surroundings, including the people currently in the room with me. Unnaturally for me, I will actually feel grateful for those people and for what we just experienced together. I know... weeeiird. It's a nice change for me to feel connected and appreciative of the people around me, rather than viewing them as obstacles to get around or pests I must endure until they're gone. Sadly, only slightly exaggerating here...
Anyway, after the relaxation of Savasana, we propped up onto our mats and got into comfortable sitting positions with our eyes still closed. My mind was in a good place to take in what I was about to hear. In fact, I loved it so much I asked the instructor after class if I could get a copy of it. Part of what really impacted me
was that it came at a time I really needed to hear it and, admittedly, part of it
was the soothing sound of the instructor’s voice, but mostly it was that it felt like
truth. It loudly rang the truth bell and I packed it in my truth basket. But, yes, I like truth, it's refreshing. I've never found it in a church, but I've found it in unexpected ways/places/people. Doesn't matter much to me where I find it, just as long as I do. I couldn't find a recording of this, so I recorded myself reading it at a relaxed, slow pace and will add in soothing music when I want to meditate with it again. So, there's a suggestion if you'd like to do the same...
Here's the meditation:
Just sit. Notice where you feel hard, and sit with that.
In the middle of that
hardness, you’ll find anger; sit with that.
Go to the center of the anger
and you’ll probably come to sadness.
Stay with the sadness until it turns
to vulnerability.
Keep sitting with what comes up; the deeper you dig,
the more tender you become.
Raw fear can open into the wide expanse of
genuineness, compassion, gratitude, and acceptance in the present moment.
A tender heart appears naturally when you are able to stay present. From
your heart, you can see the true pigment of the sky. You can see the
vibrant yellow of the sunflower and the deep blue of your daughter’s
eyes.
A tender heart doesn’t block out rainclouds, or tears, or dying
sunflowers. Allow both beauty and sadness to touch you.
This is
love, not fear.
