A mantra

September 2nd, 2009

Our days start with meditation, then yoga exercises. We eat breakfast together, then change into hiking clothes. The hike is long, or short; we eat at a Hütte in the mountains, fresh Bergkäse and air dried beef and hot coffee with milk. We hike back to the hotel, there is time to shower, maybe time to do something before dinner, but just as likely not. We eat dinner together, then meditation and deep relaxation. The days are full, almost too full.

But today:

The blue blue lake, just a reflection of the blue blue sky, changing color when a cloud crosses the sun. (And how would the lake react to being called “just a reflection of the blue blue sky”?)

Two marmots.

Good rich Bündnergerstesuppe well-earned.

The sound of flowing water.

A falcon playing in the drafts around our gondola.

Good revisions to a poem. And writing. Writing this, here, now as if my life depends on it. Which it does. This, this right here, right now – this is my meditation, my centering, my work, my breath, my mantra. These words are the moments. Without these words how can I possibly share the playing of the falcon with somebody who wasn’t there to see it? Always this, coming back to this, finding these words to transfer an experience, make it understandable. Without the words we are forever alone staring at each other across the valley – finding these words allows us to try to build a bridge of understanding. To find each other. To give meaning to our experience. To honor our lives. Without these words we are just lost souls spinning in the darkness. I’m not sure this is the realization my yoga teacher would wish me to have in the middle of a meditation session but there it is: my reality, the only reality I can hope to understand. What do I believe in? In believe in this: in writing these words, one after the other, that lead me, if I am lucky and if I am good, these words that lead me to you. What do I believe in? I believe in you reading these words one after the other. I believe in us meeting each other on the bridge our words have built. And I believe in the spark of recognition that flashes between us when our paths cross.

One Response to “A mantra”

  1. Betsy on September 3, 2009 6:10 am

    This was beautiful! (both the words and the thoughts.)

    On another note: your retreat sounds wonderful. Would love to try something like that sometime.

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