Prana

 It is no burden for me to be in silence, as readers of this online journal would already know. To the contrary, it is required, if I am to find my bliss. 

I am fortunate beyond words to have a home close to the ocean to which I can sometimes travel and live in silence for a few days at a time. Yesterday on the highway whilst travelling here I passed a sign that said that the road where I would pass was closed. I rang my husband in the car, and he rang the local store who confirmed there had been an incident three hours earlier. 

Google Maps told me to take a diversion, away from the coastal road and up to the high country, so to speak, along gorgeous countryside and eventually through a forest.

The incident was of course, most unfortunate, but it provided me with the delight of new terrain; beautiful green verdant land and then the wonder of driving through a forest almost alone. I couldn't make out why there were so few cars, but it was almost as if God looked down and said, 'No, no, it's fine, I knew you needed this.'

With maybe half an hour to the house, I saw a glimmer of the ocean, and my heart skipped a beat. I have been travelling to this part of the world all my life and yet it felt for the first time. The ocean was still and the softest blue. 

Once descended, I came to the Great Ocean Road, turned left and was reminded that in this stretch of the Road, it hugged the ocean, the beach, reminding me of stretches of road that led to the Coromandel Peninsula in New Zealand, where I went for a meditation retreat.

I am not sure if the world had gone quiet with so few people on a weekend out and about, or if it was I who had gone quiet. What I want to convey is that my mind had become 'a beginner's mind' and it was as if I was seeing everything for the first time.

I stopped off at the General Store for a few necessities and then to the house. When I arrive, I can never resist walking first around the garden. I said out loud, 'I love it here so much'.

Last night, I didn't want television. Instead, I went through the many CDs in the house, boxing the vast majority of them to give to charity. As much as I might pine for a John Denver tune every now and then, I can find that on Spotify. So, instead, I turned onto my saved tunes on Spotify and danced and danced.

Although I had bought food, I wasn't in the mood for it and instead drank red wine, some goat cheese on dried rice crackers, and an apple.

Every last thing I did was to savour my soul. It almost wasn't a decision. It was innate; intuitive. 

This morning I unpacked some books I had brought down and discovered I had brought a book about readings for yoga teachers, so I took it to back to bed and read the following:

'What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.' Crowfoot, Northern American.

And this, by Osho, the person by whom I entered the world of meditation and quiet contemplation:

"You can enter yoga, or the path of yoga only when you are totally frustrated with your own mind as it is. If you are still hoping that you can gain something through your mind, yoga isn't for you."

And how about this by Deepak Chopra:

In this short life, 'we have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment, but it is transient. It is a little parenthesis in eternity. If we share with caring lightheartedness, and love, we will create abundance and joy for each other and then this moment will have been worthwhile.'

Later today, my husband will undergo hypnosis and I have confidence that he will eventually be unburdened from a worried mind. He takes his responsibilities seriously, and of course as adults we must take our responsibilities seriously, but there must also be regular time for the unburdening of the mind. 

He's a good and kind man at the core. You can put down your burdens in nature, and he can put down his burdens in nature, but it's exciting to think that he could, quite simply, put down his burdened mind and rest more completely in wonder and a state of peace. This is how you heal.