In the last week or so, every time I’ve tried to meditate, I find myself on the run, heart beat elevated, mind scattered and often holding my breath. Only now, as I listen to the sound of rain falling in a forest, do I feel as if I am coming to a stop. The sun rising and the moon in its cycle seem to be the vestiges of an old life. Reality seems to have become perforated, as if veils are lifting and multiple existences are merging.
The sound of rain, always brings me back to a part of myself that I long for. It’s as if all the years spent living in a desert suddenly catch up with me and I realise how parched I am, how arid to my core. Which is it? Release or relief, or does it even matter? All that I need to remember is that in a changing world, I have been lost before, not fully comprehending, and like the cycles in nature, I have always found my way home.
I ask myself what are my anchors? Almost immediately I am aware of a counter question. Why do you feel the need to anchor? The moon is not pinned to one point in the sky, winter doesn’t question the arrival of spring, just as the planets move to perfect order. You are no different. Surrender to your own flow. Allow what is, to be.
Would rain ever be the beloved without the longing of the desert? Let all illusions dispel.