Let’s get away from everything… for just few moments.
Shall we?
Normally, when stress, anxiety, or feelings of overwhelming dread arise, the best course of action is… to become present. Take a deep breath. And focus on the moment.
*Open* your eyes and notice the simple, subtle beauty of the objects right before you - their color, texture, shape.
Or, *close* your eyes and place your thoughts solely within your body, wherever you feel the breath most - your chest, your nose, the rise and fall of your belly.
The aim is simply to remove yourself from the imagined future, or imagined past, which is the source of your pain, and, instead, ground yourself in the here and now. For this moment is all that is. This moment is eternal.
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There is, however, a third way to ease your suffering. A way to bring yourself to the present moment by employing a technique that turns your pain into an ally in the fight against - as Shakespeare put it - “a sea of troubles.”
Its premise is this:
If your imagination is strong enough to declare, within your mind, an emotional war, then that same imagination can be used to create for yourself, here, and now, an ocean of inner peace.
We’ve already hinted at the secret to applying this method in the first words of this meditation: Let’s get away from everything.
In short: let’s daydream.
Take a deep breath in through your nose. And as you breathe out, begin to picture in your mind a quiet suburban street, a friendly neighborhood of well-cared-for houses, and old shady trees, and cheerful bushes.
It’s late in the afternoon and the sun has just come out after a rain storm, breaking through the clouds, shooting gleaming, golden rays upon the wet ground, and rainbow prism shimmers in the shallow puddles. There’s a sweet, earthy smell of ozone in the air.
In one of the nearby houses, a neighbor opens her front door. She’s a young women of about 30, beautiful, calm, with keen, intelligent eyes. She reminds you of… your grandmother, in her youth, on her best day. She extends her hand, palm-upward and looks to the sky. The rain has stopped and she’s pleased; she takes a deep breath. She looks to the carefully planted flowerbed in front of her house - long green stems, and petal shapes and colors of all kinds - and she smiles. They needed a drink. And you find yourself happy, that she’s happy. The flowers do brighten the neighborhood so.
Then she sees you, standing there, in the middle of the wet street, surrounded by rainbow puddles and golden light, and for a moment her face puzzles. Does she know you?
The moment quickly passes. She decides, it doesn’t matter. She smiles and waves. You wave back. You’re welcome here. You’re safe. You are today’s… audience, the crowd-of-one that her flowers have been waiting for. She’s glad you got to see them. That’s why they were planted, after all. To bring a moment of beauty and calm to passersby. A kindness for world to lift its spirits, one crowd-of-one at a time.
As she heads back inside, a funny thought enters your mind. A non-sequitur, perhaps. You think: why are flowers beautiful? Why do you find them beautiful? What scientific purpose could that possibly serve? It is merely the evolutionary traces of butterflies and bees in your DNA? Is that it? Or could it be that these small, soft, scattered, endless variations of blooms and blossoms, these subtle, colorful outcroppings of life from the soil… are found throughout the world so that you may be uplifted when you’re down, so that you may feel cared for and loved, so that you may remember the kindness of god, through these, “lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin.” Each rose is a reminder, each daisy a directive: worry not; do what you’re here to do; bring your own, unique beauty forth upon the earth.
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In the midst of this heady thought, you almost don’t notice the approaching visitor on this sun-dappled, rain-damp, golden-lit street of your dreams, now only a few yards away.
A dog, friendly, large, tall (waist-high), sniffing the air in your direction, steps closer to you. He’s… white, mostly, but brown in spots, too - around one eye, his tail, a paw, one of his ears. A lab, or a poodle, or a collie, or a mastiff - he’s definitely a mix. But his eyes… they’re warm, searching, hopeful. Only a few feet away now, he sniffs you up and down. Then… he sits. He leans his head forward and pushes his nose into your hand. He want to be pet. You’re all too happy to oblige.
As you do, he looks up at you and opens his mouth… a smile. You give him a scratch behind his ears. He likes that. It’s not easy for him to do on his own. And he’s grateful.
After several moments, his itch has been satisfied - you can tell - and you stop scratching so that he can be on his way.
But when he gets up, he circles around you - taking you in, sizing you up. After a few revolutions, he stops beside you, right beside you. And again, he sits, looks up at you, and smiles. And it hits you all in a flash and you *know* that you never want this animal to suffer one moment of pain or discomfort. And you *know* he feels exactly the same way about you.
As you step forward, to walk down this golden, ethereal street, he walks with you… and he always will. As your protector, your guide, your friend, your forever companion. Like a medieval witch of lore, he is your faithful familiar.
You did nothing to earn this honor. You do not… deserve it because of some act of charity you performed. It is simply that you exist on this earth plane. That’s the total requirement necessary to be worthy of an animal’s love - of any love.
You may name him if you like, and visit him as often as you wish - on this street, in this place, where you will always be welcome, where it’s quiet and serene, and where wisdom is gleaned through the movement of the trees, and the rhythm of the flowers, and the scent in the air, and your grandmother’s wave, and your canine companion’s constant reminder that you are always, always deserving of love, no matter what.
Now, take a few moments to run with your pup, or… sit by the flowers and take in the sky, or jump and splash in the crystal, rainbow puddles. And know, dear child, that this world is no less real than any other.
You are loved here. You are loved… everywhere.