Tag: peace

Free Fall to Infinity

Grand Canyon, NPS
Grand Canyon © National Park Service
Some of you may recall a blog article I wrote last year called “Infinity.” In it, I described my lifelong fear of infinity/eternity and my first individual session with Panache Desai in which he took me to infinity. Unlike the mind-freezing terror I had experienced late at night at the thought of a never-ending universe, what I felt with Panache was free-floating peace and calm. No real sense of time or space; no thoughts, no emotion. Yet a comforting soft energy surrounded me. I remained in that state for hours, and the experience shifted my consciousness profoundly. The late-night fear did not occur for more than a year and a half.

This past summer, however, the terror-infinity thoughts began to recur, more and more frequently. I gradually realized that I was being prepared for the next phase in the evolution of this deep-seated fear. Consequently, I decided to take part in Panache’s 21-day program of “vibrational activation,” which consisted of daily meditations and energetic transmissions, interactive telephone sessions, and online group support. Each participant wrote an intention for the 21 days, and mine was to walk through my fear to freedom. A friend had recently told me that “terror is the final barrier to merging with God,” which actually helped give me a positive incentive for the journey.

How to explain an inner process that practically defies language? I will try. The first thing I experienced was a subtle shift in the energy around the terror, which allowed me to get closer to it than I ever had before. Usually panic took hold of me completely, and I froze. But one night I was able to access what was an integral part of the terror: overwhelming grief. Was this the sum total of life—a universe without end and an equally endless state of being or nonbeing? The despair I felt was so strong that I shut down entirely. But in a phone session, Panache sent me energy for the grief, and I was able to feel it through completely—days and days of crying at the “painful beauty” of life, then anger at the unfairness, and finally emotional neutrality and an inability to access the terror at all. I was in a holding pattern, wondering what would come next. I wrote online: “I feel as if I’m sitting on the edge of something HUGE—like the Grand Canyon with God in the middle of it. If only I could find a way to free fall into that vastness—or get someone to push me!”

Around the same time, another group member posted this quote by William Blake: “To see a World in a Grain of Sand/And a Heaven in a Wild Flower/Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand/And Eternity in an hour.” I have always loved those lines, but that evening I read them as if for the first time. The words infinity and eternity leapt out at me. World upon world opened up inside me. I realized that I had held Infinite Spirit in the pulsing palms of my hands during sessions with Panache. And I had experienced the Eternal Now in meditation, with my soul as silent witness. What we call God, or Spirit, exists as infinity and eternity and loving presence within each moment. Now is all there is, ever, and my soul doesn’t fear infinity because it is infinity. Only the mind is terrified of something that is beyond parameters, beyond thought really.

The next morning, during meditation in my back yard, I sat silently observing all the dimensions of the universe playing out magnificently within me. Opening my eyes and looking up at the infinite eternal peaceful blue sky, I felt my heart and soul as one with everything. No separation, no duality. I am the Grand Canyon and God. And life is a free fall that includes it all.

Peace, Love, and Extreme Fear

Photograph © 2013 Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © 2013 Peggy Kornegger
Is it possible to remain peaceful when you are faced with extremely frightening events? Can you feel fear and peace simultaneously? And hold love in your heart through it all? More and more, we are living the answers to questions like these. In Massachusetts, where I live, during the 2013 Boston Marathon, residents found themselves in the midst of a terrorist drama that dragged on for five days. As fate would have it, I was away from home, on retreat with Panache Desai in Florida, during that exact time period. Within the group of 46 people from all over the world, there were several of us from Massachusetts.

We first heard the news about the explosions at the Boston Marathon when the daughter of one couple phoned her parents in tears. Remembering with a terrible sinking feeling that my partner was at the marathon, I left the session to phone her. Finally, I got through and cried with relief upon hearing her voice. In the days that followed, those of us from Massachusetts kept in touch with loved ones back home, supported by the deep caring of others in the group, many of whom knew firsthand about living with political unrest and violence in their own countries. Panache himself grew up in London, where bombings were an ongoing part of life.

During the course of the week, together we held a space of peace, love, and compassion for those in Boston as well as for those elsewhere in the world who face terrorism, violence, and gut-wrenching fear. True, we were one step removed from the events in Boston, but because many of us had family and friends there, the fear was very real for all of us. Each day brought some new painful piece to assimilate. On Friday, when I learned that pursuit of the two suspected bombers was taking place less than a mile from my home, I once again felt adrenaline course through my system. On the phone, my partner told me that the entire city was under lockdown, and she could hear helicopters flying low over the house, searching the area. It was surreal—and frightening. Yet, even in the midst of it, she and I found we were able to remain relatively calm and centered. “Breathe,” she said to me. “I’m here. I’m okay in this moment.”

And that’s how we got through the week, one breath, one moment, at a time. Feeling everything and letting it flow through our bodies. All of us in Panache’s group were experiencing our various individual fears and pain within the larger spaciousness we had opened ourselves to—allowing instead of resisting what had occurred in the past and what was unfolding in the present. I’ve found such a deep wisdom in that process. For me, it means being open to every part of life—embracing it all, every exquisite or excruciating minute. Within that embrace is a peace that helps me to live my life with less suffering and tension, even in the middle of frightening or upsetting circumstances.

Back home in Boston, I was especially moved by the stories of those who stepped forward to help others during the explosions and by the community spirit that flowed within and toward Boston from individuals and groups across the country and around the world. A One Fund was established to help those most affected by what occurred. One, oneness—it was empathy and heart-felt love that people were feeling. May that love continue to expand, and may we peacefully heal the separation that gives rise to violence.

“The greatest gift that you can offer our planet is the gift of your peace.”—Panache Desai

The Field

© 2012 Anne S. Katzeff / Artist
© 2012 Anne S. Katzeff / Artist
“Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing
and right-doing, there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.”—Rumi

This is one of my favorite Rumi quotes, and lately I’ve been thinking it would be the perfect engraved quotation to appear at the entrance to all government buildings in Washington, D.C.—or in all government buildings everywhere, throughout the world. Better yet, abolish the buildings and just meet in the fields! Something needs to change, that’s for sure. Entrenched attitudes and political posturing are part of the old paradigm of separation and irreconcilable differences. The new paradigm, which we are living into day by day, calls for these to dissolve and make way for open hearts and open minds. And for listening instead of nonstop talking.

Politicians are not the only ones caught in this trap. When people identify heavily with their personalities, they frequently find themselves stubbornly clinging to being right and finding others wrong. Beneath the personality and egoic roles, however, lives the individual spirit or soul who sees commonality and connection instead of “otherness.” Here is found the oneness and peace we all seek. My soul doesn’t care if my personality is irritated by someone else’s beliefs or behavior. My soul doesn’t care if my ego feels wronged by another person’s opinion of me. My soul is just witnessing all of my life experiences, without comment, without attitude. In that place of pure spacious being within, there are no opposing sides—all is one.

If we could pause, breathe deeply, and drop into that space periodically throughout the day, our lives would flow with greater ease, and our relationships would become more flexible. To live from an open heart and a peaceful spirit is to find true happiness in each moment—and common ground for collective decision making in our communities and in the world at large. Give up right; give up wrong. Consider the possibility that there really is a field out there where we can meet and learn from our differences instead of fight over them.

In Lynne McTaggart’s book The Field, she writes of the space within and between everything on Earth and in outer space, which scientists have heretofore labeled “dead.” McTaggart makes a convincing case that this space is alive with energy and vibration, the very basis of the universe. This is ancient knowledge within the realm of spiritual masters, and today many quantum physicists also agree that a “unified field” of intelligence or infinite consciousness does indeed exist, and we are part of it. If I am not mistaken, Rumi’s field and McTaggart’s field are one and the same. The silent space of spirit within is connected to the space between all forms on Earth and in the cosmos. The energy within and between vibrates a web of light that is pure oneness. When we consciously “step into” that rainbow field of light, hardened conflicts soften, and you and I recognize each other as we.

Infinite Inner Space

© 2007 Anne S. Katzeff / Artist
© 2007 Anne S. Katzeff / Artist

“Your soul is the silent witness of your life.”
—Panache Desai

That one sentence changed everything for me. Yes, I had heard about the “witness” before, but it was an idea in my head that I could never access within my own experience. After years and years of meditation practice, I continued to be lost in my thoughts. Then, during a webcast, I listened to Panache talk about dropping into present-moment awareness by simply taking a deep breath and repeating, “Here I am.” And here I am. And here I am. Now. And now. And now. Something shifted within me, and I was there, or rather here, in presence. The next morning at sunrise, during meditation, I was able to step back from my mind’s mental chatter into a silent inner space of awareness, of peace. When thoughts arose, I could observe them without losing consciousness. If I drifted into my thoughts momentarily, I found I could bring my self back to witnessing from the soul’s point of view: “Here I AM…now.”

That I AM that lives within each breath is greater than the personality self connected to the mind. It is a pure state of being, of infinite consciousness, which links all beings on the planet, actually in the cosmos. When I access that inner silent space, I am in the same place that you are when you access it. Within that living awareness, we are in complete and utter oneness. Within that space is the deepest peace and calm I have ever known. Infinite, with no fear attached to the endless being-ness. Some call this place Heaven, or Home. It is the source from which we all arise into human form and into which we dissolve at the end of our lives. It is God or Goddess; it is Great Spirit. It is Om.

And immersion in this profound state of consciousness is not limited to human beings. Animals experience their own contemplative moments. My dear cat Lily in her elder years used to sit on the back of the couch by the window, facing west at sunset, eyes closed in deep meditation. In the tall oak tree in my neighbor’s back yard, leafless now in the winter months, birds gather each evening, all facing west, their breasts shining red-gold in the setting sun.

We creatures living on Planet Earth find connection and comfort in the profound sacred silence that occurs at moments like sunrise and sunset. It reminds us of something beyond our lifetimes, something eternal and infinite at the heart of the universe—and within our own hearts. It reminds us that even when we feel most alone, there is always the loving presence of a greater consciousness of which we are part.