Mind Burst by Carole Day. Felt tip pens and brushes.
Meditation
When I was working in Acton on the Mobile Libraries, one of my colleagues, Judith, introduced me to meditation. Judith didn’t practice meditation herself, she attended the sister School of Philosophy in Notting Hill Gate, but she thought I would be more suited to the School of Meditation based in Victoria.
I was initiated and joined the school. The initiation ceremony required us to offer gifts to the guru: a white piece of cloth, some fruit, a flower, and a gift of money, whatever we could afford. In return we were given a personal Mantra, never to be repeated to anyone but spoken in our mind as part of our meditation. We attended the school, a large Victorian house, every week, for a meeting of fellow practitioners overseen and guided by our Master; I remember him still and his kind face.
We would meditate together and then discuss our practice, our thoughts and feelings, about anything really. Then regularly we would attend for a ‘check’, which was when an experienced member of the school meditated with us to advise us on any changes we should make in our practice. I always thought it was very strange the way they seemed to know how our meditation was going; “you’re very tense” or “you’re not really in the moment are you?” they might say.
Sometimes I would go there at the weekend to practise Meditation in action. For me this was usually cleaning of some kind, but others would make food for us to eat in our break; often bread rolls and vegetable soup, simple food, but this was the most wonderful food I had ever tasted, because it was made with love, and those eating it had been practising love in action, because that is what meditation is.
One day I was cleaning the windows with crumpled newspaper, as we did there, the newsprint contains lead, so makes the windows very bright, when I experienced probably the zenith of my spiritual life – right there. In one moment the sun shone through the windows and for a split second, no more, the world made sense. Words cannot really explain the feeling, but just in that instant I understood the meaning of the world, my life, everything. And then it was gone. No words left to explain it, no way to recall it. That is how it is with meditation, as soon as you try to capture it, it’s gone, it has to be experienced in the moment. But, more than any other event in my life, or forays into altered states of consciousness, my practice of meditation changed me, my life, and my attitude to other people. It made me more tolerant and understanding and more appreciative of this beautiful world. Our Master used to tell us that meditation puts a shine on your soul that never dies away; even when you stop it remains with you throughout your life. I like to think that it is true.
