The first time I undertook any form of meditation I was brought face to face with the embodiment of my Higher Self, and was gifted with the experience of pure love and compassion. I’ve been chasing that high ever since.
No. That’s untrue. I chased that high for a while but all that stopped many years ago when I accepted the futility of such a venture and now I just meditate because………..
Well, I guess it’s like eating or drinking: something I do because it is necessary to sustain who I am now and it saves me from the pitfalls and anxieties that a daily, non-mindful state can lapse into all too easily. Plus I am occasionally gifted with some experiences within meditation that I have long-since stopped trying to explain to other people.
I occasionally practice my own brand of Higher Self meditation and I guess I’ll write it here just on the off-chance somebody feels the need for it but I think the circumstances under which you approach it are equally important.
On one particular day, many years ago I had, seemingly, lost everything. My mistakes and stupidity and greed had caught up with me. I had no job, was losing the roof over my head, the woman I loved, my unborn child and every bond I had in the world. I was never a therapy-seeking kind of person. I viewed caring as a bit creepy and viewed prescriptions with disdain. To me, psychology was quackery and religion was a weakness. My ego was simply too big for any of these things. Drugs: I devoured them. Alcohol: I depended on it.
So I sat on my sofa, hung-over with the stale smell of skunk-weed and tobacco clinging to every item of clothing I wore. I had no money for booze and no inclination to eat.
After hours of pacing and phone-calls to try to mend my broken relationship, job prospects, bank payments and bills I simply slumped into exhaustion and a tacit acceptance that there was little I could do at that moment. It was 5pm and I figured it might be better to start again in the morning, but even that felt like it would be a waste of time.
So I crossed my fat legs (I’d gotten pretty big back then) straightened the spine of the spineless, closed my eyes and breathed. And then I thought, So how do I do this ?
There was no affectation: no robes, no bells, no crazy binaural beats (which were yet to be invented), no cleanliness, godliness, DMT, lotus flowers or head-shaving. Just me: alone, poor and in fear and self-loathing.
The only clue I had about meditation was from from I kid I remember back in school when I was 16. For some reason I recalled him telling me that meditation was breathing in and out but imagining that your breath is filling your head instead of your lungs. OK, I thought, that’s a start.
Now I don’t know where he’d heard that but all these years later it sounds like just one of those daft things kids say, like smoking banana skins will get you high, wearing a bin bag makes you get thinner or rubbing lard on you gets you a better suntan. Nonetheless it was all I had to go on.
Only a few breaths later I committed myself to the task; the exhaustion and tiredness compelling me like, Ah Fuck It. Why Not ? What Else Can I do Anyway ?
So I began, and it wasn’t long until I started to feel my head making small expansions with the air I was inhaling. What I was exhaling was simply one problem after another; problems I could nothing about at that time. Simple as that.
Eventually there was nothing left but the expansion and contraction of my head. It was cool that my imagination could override the physical truth of my lungs so I made an unconscious effort to see just how big I could make my head feel. What was interesting however was that my “self” stopped being the driver or the pilot of the expansion but rather moved to occupy the space at the centre of the expansion.
I started to feel the perimeters expand around me: pushing the rubbery, cranial envelope of this self-created universe. It expanded out and came back a little less each time, growing all of the time and simultaneously my heart beat became the bass-speaker that provided a pulse and lifeblood to the vastness: a kind of Schumann resonance to this inner world.
I have no idea how long all of this lasted but then there was NOTHING.
Silence and blackness ? No…..NOTHING
The “nothing” lasted for as long as thing things last when time, as a concept, has decayed back to a perfect zero. I know I closed my eyes in a light room and later opened them in a dark one but there are no minutes or millenniums that can describe hitting SumZero in meditation.
Then I opened my eyes and I’m back in the room, all very real. Oh, apart from a perfect version of myself, just down and to the right, looking up at me.
HE is ME. Only HE is perfect. Eyes captivating, expressing nothing but perfect love, perfect compassion, perfect patience. The “perfect” is like the “nothing” It is PERFECT. He is perfect. He is here and HE is real. Like really fucking real.
He has me captured like a rabbit in the headlights and he reaches his hand and it touches my neck warmly just beneath my right ear. His face rises to mine and he he kisses me so beautifully and gently on my right cheek.
I am melting, literally melting with joy. I thought I had felt love. I thought I had experienced kindness. I thought I knew calm and happiness but it turns out I knew nothing of these things until this moment. Then he talks right into my ear. An actual voice.
This is not a voice like you’d imagine, but an external voice, seeming to produce sound by shifting air and vibrating the inner ear. And It just says:
Everything is going to be OK
And despite my hopelessness and pessimism and everything I was going through I absolutely believe 100% he is telling me the truth. This perfection could speak nothing but truth. That is clearly so.
And I believe this is the real world until, surprisingly, I open my eyes for a second time (without having closed them again first ? I know…fucked up) and here I am back from my journey but all of the love and compassion are still buzzing and resonating within me like an ecstasy pill x1000, and I just cry.
Not sadness, but pure joy and total euphoria about what I have been given and how great life is.
And in 12 years of meditation and 12 years of trying to be as close to that perfect version of myself as I can ever get to, I can say this.
Life isn’t perfect. Sometimes it’s not easy. But that promise was kept: everything has been OK.