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At 3:00pm I put my computer to sleep, take a drink of water, and walk away from the desk. Within two steps I arrive at my meditation space – the couch – for today’s 11 minute meditation. Cue the app and press play. The guide invites me to relax, notice mind and body, and return to my home base which for me, is my breath. The guide asks me to notice and release any tension I find via body scan. He mentions areas prone to hold tension – shoulders, jaw, forehead, and then he says “eyeballs.” That’s a surprising request! (My mind starts doing its thing – thinking – have I ever checked the relaxation level of my eyeballs? The skin around my eyes, yes, wow, can eyeballs relax? That’s so cool, are mine relaxed?) I notice the surge of thoughts responding to this new suggestion. I tune into my home base, my breath, and then I tune into this part of the body, with what feels like new awareness. Giving attention to the state of my eyeballs helps me awaken a little more to the moment. Thank you, friend.
My meditation sessions are a chance to observe my thoughts. Through the years I have become familiar with habitual thoughts that are frequent visitors and each session is an opportunity to learn what’s got my attention now. Witnessing thought becomes VERY interesting when I connect them to what, of late, has got my attention. Have I been deliberate in my thought, or reactive? Is my thinking collected today? Or scattered? For example, when I seek out and read Sacred Wisdom texts in the morning, or gather myself together to do salat, or turning – practices that have the power to unite mind, body, and soul – these moments lead to a greater sense of coherence and calm. The benefits accrue. Go too many days without these and “I” feel split into a thousand pieces by the constant demands on my attention.
Dede says in Chapter Seven of Living Presence, “What we choose to give our attention to we energize”. A good friend says it another way: where attention goes, energy flows. What I give my attention to dominates my experience. It really matters what I think about. It really matters how I communicate.
O [Daughter], you are what you think. As for the rest of you, it’s only flesh and bone. If your thought is a rose, you are a rose garden; and if your thoughts are thorns, you are just kindling for the bath stove.
[Mathnawi II, 277-278, The Rumi Daybook, trans. Helminski]
When irritation, pre-occupation with this and that, sadness, powerlessness, or any state of contraction arrives, and patience is required, I often return to a practice that helps me seek and, with God’s grace, see again but a few of innumerable blessings. I pick up my pen, the journal of the moment, and intend to write out 11 things for which I am grateful. And why. For example, “O Beloved, thank you for this wonderful, beautiful pen. I love the way it feels in my hand, and I love its beautiful white color with the bright blue accent. The ink is the perfect shade of black, not too dark and not too light. The ink smells like ink, how wonderful to be able to smell ink! I so appreciate this pen because of its quality, that it is refillable and sturdy, and that through it and paper, I can express myself through the written word, a gift that keeps on giving. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
When I give my attention to gratitude for a simple pen, I feel better. I traded vague anxiety about events outside my control to some tangible blessing that is now, right now, in my experience. I turn my attention from the miser to the Beneficent. The more I think on Beneficence, the more Beneficence I find. This pen is a gift I appreciate repeatedly. Iterations of journaling about this simple joy have expanded to embrace all the people who brought this pen into being, the places it traveled on its journey to the vendor, thanks for the vendors of the vendor, the communities, the families, the neighbors, the children, and further to the gift of halal work, the gift of being able to choose words, the beautiful diversity of language and sounds, the loved ones to whom I write, the generosity of a friend, the blessing of friendship. Dost. Dost. Light upon Light.
To think and communicate the positive is an act of faith in times of testing. It need not be construed as delusion, denial, or bypass, but instead more like a prayer. And if we look for the positive, we shall certainly find it. This is also true of the opposite. Mevlana says,
Nothing the seeker seeks is withheld.
[Mathnawi VI; 1889, The Rumi Daybook, trans. Helminski]
As much as possible, may we be able to think and communicate the positive! And may the horn of our empty-for-Ramadan belly carry our prayers to the Divine Presence. For the Divine Presence promises,
I respond to the call of the one who calls, whenever s/he calls to Me. Let them then, respond to Me, and believe in Me…
[Quran Al Baqarah, "The Cow," 2:186, trans. Helminski]
~ Aliya lives with her family, friends, and neighbors in Virginia. |
