I am a little preoccupied at the moment, what with the upcoming workshop, some outstanding things I need to catch up on and the fact that I’ve been hobbling around like a centenarian. My back decided to get in on an already overcrowded act act by seizing up completely and at the worst possible moment. Not only is it wholly inconvenient, it is new… and the inevitable worry of ‘why’, when I’ve done nothing to provoke it, sort of seeps in under the radar.
Worry is fear by another name, regardless of how we dress it up or what name we use. It doesn’t matter what the cause may be, the mind can magnify anything out of all proportion, given half a chance. Once magnified, you can then start indulging in all manner of ‘what ifs’ and imaginary scenarios… especially in the middle of the night… even though you know damned well that all you will really do is roll up your sleeves and find a way regardless. You just do.
What with one thing and another, my thoughts have been buzzing so hard they have left little room for anything else. Like a hive of agitated bees they seem to repel any useful intruder that seeks to disturb their dance.
And just when you think things can’t get any worse, then you get another stalker. Not some genuinely interested person who simply wants to make friends online. Not someone you have come to know gradually. No. The type whose very first point of contact is flowery enough to give you hayfever, and about as transparent… and potentially lethal… as a shard of glass. I’ve made myself fairly clear on my opinion of them before.
They too seem to be part of a hive mind of a different sort, operating on a shared wavelength that is capable of drafting almost identical emails and messages, as if they had access to some kind of prescriptive manual on how to con women they see as vulnerable. My disgust at these tactics stopped my internal buzzing in its tracks and had all the little stingers in there firmly aimed in the direction of this predatory mentality, while I resisted the urge to respond with verbal tooth and claw.
It was thus agitated and fair seething that I stepped outside into the garden. Instead of looking at all the things I’d like to be able to do to get it ready for the growing season, I just stood there and breathed. The sun was warm on my skin; really warm, bathing me in springtime. Shadows danced amongst the leaves, rustling the dried stems that still need to be cleared. Tiny shoots and burgeoning buds dot the stalks and twigs through which a huge bumblebee, the first of the year, lumbered impossibly.
I watched its sleepy flight, knowing the science that keeps it in the air, yet seeing only the miracle of those tiny wings lifting the fat, furry body. All thought was adrift in wonder, washed away by the glow of the sun. Taught muscles, crisped against the cold for so long, relaxed in the warmth and inner silence. I was conscious of not knowing the last time I had simply taken time, outside of meditation, to not do anything, but the thought had nothing to cling to. I was aware of the detail observed yet it registered as a whole, not as parts. For a time unmeasured and unhurried, I simply stood as part of the moment.
It was only later, back at the screen, coffee in hand, that it occurred to me that it had taken the negative emotions of the day to prepare the canvas of the mind for that moment of utter peace. On a bland day I would probably have only seen the gardening that needed to be done. On a good day I would have been beavering away and missed the impossible flight of the first bumblebee. Like children, I thought, sometimes the lessons that are taught through love can begin with less than pleasant circumstances; it is one way to get our attention, after all, and the brightness shows all the clearer against the shadows.
None of it sounds of much importance, yet it is through such apparently insignificant moments that we learn. Their impact on our inner state cannot be measured as we draw from them lessons which, perhaps, we cannot voice. The realisations may go deep, beyond thought, taking time to find their way back up to the surface of consciousness. Such moments out of time we seem to connect with yet another Mind, one that encompasses all we know and all we are and in that utter peace our small cares and even our individuality have neither place nor relevance. We are one tiny sparkle on the endless velvet of eternity, one mind amongst many, yet we are one with the One.