Tag: being

Spirit of the Garden

Photograph © 2015 Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © 2015 Peggy Kornegger

In my flower garden, I encounter all of life on a daily basis. I am also continually given opportunities to practice classic spiritual principles: Be in present-moment awareness. Accept what is. Let go of all attachments to a particular outcome. Each one is perfectly applicable to both gardening and living. Nature doesn’t play by human rules or expectations. Nature just is. Entering the natural world that surrounds us brings us home to a part of ourselves that often gets lost in the clock-centered busyness of daily life.

When I walk through my back door in the early morning stillness, I am met with a presence that I would call sacred. Neighbors still asleep, traffic sounds distant and minimal. I am alone with the beauty of the green and growing Earth, my eyes clear and open to all that is before me: nature in living color and infinite variety. Immediately I am completely engaged and present. Thinking has faded to the background, and I am just being. When I look at each blooming lily or rose, there is no separation. The flowers and I are one in the spirit of life that flows through us. Standing beneath a towering maple tree, I am drawn into the silence that holds both of us in timeless being. I AM. The tree IS. We are both part of a consciousness that links every living thing on Earth and in the cosmos. Each morning becomes a meditation in slow motion that centers me in the now and eases me into my day.

The actual work of gardening—seeding, planting, weeding, pruning—is another practice that both engages me and teaches me acceptance of all that is. The past winter’s cold has killed my butterfly bush as well as several other perennials. My native honeysuckle, covered with bright red blossoms, has aphids that are eating the new buds. Finding replacement plants and removing insects and dead leaves are all part of gardening. Within that process of letting go of the old and welcoming the new, I surrender to the flow of life, with both sadness and celebration. The garden teaches me to hold it all in my heart without judgment or distress. Every day is a new opportunity to embrace each event in my life and in my garden. When I have sudden unexpected expenses or a painful migraine headache, I am reminded that living includes these challenges as well as the joys of laughing with friends, listening to music, or watching a glorious red sunset after a dramatic thunderstorm. To be human is to encounter all parts of the experiential spectrum.

Gardening immerses me in nature, but it also aligns me with divine presence. My soul is with me in the garden. In truth, my soul is with me everywhere. And it is being in presence within my garden that teaches me this. There is nowhere and nothing that is not filled with spirit, that is not God experiencing life on Earth in a multitude of forms and expressions, including human. We are so much more than we think we are, and it is only in not thinking but just being present that we experience that expansive awareness. Heaven is here on Earth, and when we realize that, we see paradise everywhere we go.

 

Mind-Less, Time-Less

Photograph © 2013 Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © 2013 Peggy Kornegger

This past month I’ve been practicing what I call “mindlessness.” No, I don’t mean air-headed bumbling through life. Or vacuously staring into space with no connection to the world around you. It’s more like living moment to moment from the non-thinking center of your being. Your heart, your soul. Pure awareness without the overlay of language. The practice has involved breathing deeply and dropping down into my body’s core whenever I notice myself caught in thinking overdrive, my mind running from one thought to another like a mad marathoner. Taking a deep breath and becoming aware interrupts the mind’s busyness. I breathe, feel my physical body, and come into present-moment awareness of my immediate environment. Wherever I am, I look or listen without thinking about it. I consciously step into the now, perceiving without filtering. The mental concept of time ceases to exist.

Of course, this is not as simple as it sounds, or as long-lasting. The key is to practice doing it, again and again. Practicing lays down new behavioral cues, new perceptual impulses, which help me to be present with more ease and grace the more I do it. In truth, a silent center of pure thoughtless soul awareness lives within us all. That is what I’m connecting to with each conscious breath. It is a space that I frequently relax into while sitting in meditation or when I am outdoors walking in nature. The challenge is to “be here now”—not lost in thought—continuously, under all circumstances. That is the practice.

As the weeks pass, I am finding that both gardening and bird-watching center me effortlessly in “mindless” presence, again and again. The beauty of the natural world immediately opens my heart and awakens me to the present moment. When I look at a brilliantly colored bird or flower, I am not thinking; I am just being. My heart is directly connected to my soul, and together they quietly override the mind’s dominance, bringing me into complete immersion in Now. And that presence gradually spills over to other moments in my daily life….

Watching a middle-aged man gently holding his elderly father’s hand as they cross the street in front of me, I am present. Riding the bus as the sun rises and shines dazzling light on the distant city skyline and the nearby spring-green trees, I am present. Listening to a wood thrush’s ethereal flutelike call in the evening stillness, I am present. The smell of banana bread in my neighbor’s kitchen, the sound of a dog barking on the next street, the full moon casting shadows through the tree branches, the feel of soft flannel sheets on my body as I slide into bed—all of these are opportunities to experience life directly, separate from the mind’s interpretation. Each one of us has moments like these in our lives in which we can break through to full awareness and presence. The key is to take a deep breath and notice what is directly in front of us.

More and more frequently, I am realizing when my thoughts have taken me away, and I consciously breathe and bring myself back to the world around me, to the timeless present moment. Slowly but surely, my mind is letting go of the reins of control. I am relearning to see and hear without mental gymnastics, as a small child does. Breathing, I am connected to both my heart and my soul. Breathing, I am present for each second of my life. Breathing, I am fully alive, experiencing everything firsthand, seeing miracles everywhere. Breathing, I AM….

 

Let Life Live You

Photograph © 2015 Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © 2015 Peggy Kornegger
There’s a refrigerator magnet I’ve seen for sale in some stores that reads: “You make plans. God laughs.” I love that reminder to let go and allow life to unfold instead of constantly struggling to control it. It’s a reminder I need quite often, as most of us do, I would guess. Our educational institutions teach us very early that working hard and trying are rewardable attributes. “Going with the flow” or using intuitive insight to guide daily activities is just not acceptable behavior within a system geared to the future productivity of adults-in-the-making. In first grade, we even have “Think and Do” workbooks to teach us how to achieve control over our classroom studies. So, by the time we reach adulthood, we are thoroughly conditioned to think a lot and do a lot. We make “To Do” lists every day and try hard to keep life handleable. Never really works, does it?

Life has a way of being messy and out of our control. Plans are continually disrupted by the unexpected in one form or another. What if we could rewind our lives back to first grade and choose a different handbook for life, one called “Pause and Reflect” or “Breathe and Be”? Not completely impossible, if we think of time, and our selves, as infinitely flexible. We can choose to respond differently now and break the old conditioning with conscious awareness. What if you allow life to live you, rather than trying to make life play by your rules?

Lately, I have noticed that I am “allowing” with greater frequency. I watch my life take shape each day as both an observer and a participant. This means that my “soul as witness” is very much a part of my consciousness. From that perspective, I see how “I” fit into what is unfolding. If I look at everything as a divinely orchestrated stream of events, then my own place in it just seems to emerge organically. I don’t have to plan every detail ahead of time; I just respond with awareness to what is before me. I allow life to be a mystery that is opening up all around me. I don’t have to solve it; I just have to experience it. And in truth, that’s all I can ever do. Control is an illusion. We want to believe we have some control because we are frightened of the unknown.

But nothing is known for certain in our universe. Native Americans call it “the Great Mystery” for good reason. Yesterday’s “truths” are pushed aside by today’s “truths,” and tomorrow will debunk them all. What if we could live peacefully with that constant flux, letting every day be a mystery to step into with anticipation and excitement, as though we had front-row seats to a wonderfully innovative new play or film? What if we looked at our lives from that perspective, as both actors and audience? And God as improv coach.

It’s called surrender, a spiritual concept hard to swallow for most people. Yet, if we are to find peace, within ourselves and with one another, perhaps it is something we should consider. It’s not an instant solution to the challenges we all face; it takes practice, surrendering over and over. Still, the more I let go, the more I experience a profound freedom and calm. When you let life live you each day, you can gratefully set aside the endless list of tasks and just be present for it all.

Whose Hands Are These?

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What is sound before hearing, world before language, being before the idea of it? A baby, who has yet to develop a conceptual framework or ego, sees the world solely as spirit without words or ideas. That conscious spirit, that pure awareness, exists within us all beneath the layers of egoic stories and beliefs that we have gathered over a lifetime. The soul, or spirit, is our inner home: the Great Mystery silently witnessing life through our eyes.

A few months ago, I was on my way to a silent retreat in Florida and was reading one of Adyashanti’s books, Emptiness Dancing, on the plane. As I sat absorbing what I read in an almost-meditative state, I grew sleepy and gradually dozed off. After a short time, I opened my eyes and looked down at my hands resting on the book in my lap. “Whose hands are these?” passed through my not-fully-awake consciousness. This question was not “mine”; it came from that place before “I.” For a second, there was only the mystery, prior to my idea of me. Then “I” returned and recognized “my” hands. It was a moment of deep connection with that conscious spirit within, a step beyond anything I had experienced previously.

Occasionally, when I am in deep meditation for a prolonged period of time, I slip silently into a space without boundaries, infinity opening infinitely. I perceive my physical body as a temporary container for this eternal beingness without form. It is an exceptionally peaceful state that I always long to return to, but it is not reached by an act of will, of course—only by completely relaxing and letting go. That kind of letting go is an ongoing evolutionary process for human beings now, and we all need almost daily reminders to release the reins of control. Meditation definitely helps, and certain books do as well. Although on the surface meant for the mind, books like Emptiness Dancing slide between the cracks and reach our soul without our realizing it at first. My own experience on the plane awakened the “I” of me to that place of conscious spirit before and beyond form, if only momentarily. A new and more profound level than I had reached through meditation alone.

We are all heading in this direction, I believe. The Divine is always patiently waiting for opportunities to show us our divinity, our presence within infinite consciousness beyond the parameters of body and mind. During these extraordinary times of increasing awareness and awakening on our planet, the moments of passing effortlessly between form and formlessness may become more and more prevalent. After all, it is not alien to us. We were formless before birth, and we will be formless again after death. Perhaps this time on Earth is tutoring us in eternal fluidity and flow, which is the heart of divine consciousness in the cosmos. We are gradually learning not to be afraid of that mysterious unknown realm but instead to embrace the magnificent wonder of it.

Simply Being

Photograph © 2011 Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © 2011 Peggy Kornegger

As I meditate for longer and longer periods of time (1­–2 hours) at daybreak each morning, I am finding complexity and simplicity are merging into one flowing experience. Seems contradictory, I know, but only because of the constraints of language. Put another way, layer upon layer of awareness is opening up within me, yet all the layers are part of one whole, one seamless state of being. I’m discovering it is possible to feel inner peace at the same time that I’m feeling sadness or distraction. I am aware of silence at the heart of all sound, of light at the center of darkness. Beyond the illusion of separation, there is wholeness. Within complexity itself is infinite simplicity. Perhaps the best way to describe all of this is oneness, feeling one with everything, at times just resting without thought in simply being, in simply breathing.

Various spiritual traditions speak of such moments. The Sanskrit word samadhi refers to union or merging with God or the Divine, and the Hebrew word devekut describes intense melding or deep communion with God in prayer or meditation. Humans have tried with words to approximate an experience of Divine union or universal oneness that really defies description. Yet we try.

Because I am a writer, I have always felt a deep compelling urge to describe my own spiritual journeys. Yet, the deeper I dive, the harder it is to find the exact words to replicate what I am feeling. Indeed, during one of my deepest inner experiences of infinity (in a session with Panache Desai), I completely lost the desire to write or describe at all. For several hours, I remained in a state of infinite peace. My journal lay untouched nearby. Lately, as I spend longer periods of time in meditation, this same experience is recurring. Words are unnecessary within pure being, the soul silently witnessing. Language arises from thought, and when thoughts float by without attachment or disappear, there is no need to speak or write. Only, later, as I come to the surface from these depths, do I reach for my pen.

This is not to say that the goal of life is to give up speaking or writing. I guess that what I am getting at here is that the experience of peaceful oneness without words changes you. I perceive the world a little differently. The need for constant intervention and effort diminishes. Events seem to flow of their own accord without my monitoring them. There is a recognition of a higher intelligence at work, an intricate tapestry of which I am but one fiber. And my purpose, as that fiber, is to simply be myself, not orchestrate the entire universe. There is a humility in this, a letting go. It doesn’t mean lack of doing; it means doing that arises from being—a softer, less frenetic approach to life. When I write, the words flow from my soul more than my mind.

Am I in this space all the time? No, of course not. I am human. My mind gets busy, and I start to make lists, feel rushed, etc. But those experiences are becoming more transitory, less all-consuming. My soul self knows better, and that connection grows ever stronger. All of us have that connection, and we are gradually learning its importance. There truly is an inner core of peace. When we open to that peace, one breath at a time, it simplifies everything.