Welcome to No Mud,
No Lotus,
A spring meditation.
Let's begin by finding a posture that allows you to feel grounded,
Present,
And relaxed.
Letting go of any unnecessary effort throughout your body.
And you might gently close your eyes or allow your gaze to become soft and cast downward,
Perhaps at your lap or at the floor.
Give your lungs the freedom to fully expand and let go.
Perhaps taking in a few deeper breaths now.
And if you can,
Elongating the exhale.
So you might breathe in to a count of four,
Hold for a count of one or two at the top of the breath,
And then exhale to a count of six.
If it's comfortable for you,
Repeating this process a couple of times.
And just breathing in two,
Three,
Four,
Hold two,
And then out two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six.
And then just letting the breath come in its own natural pace and rhythm.
No need to control the breath now.
Just letting the body breathe itself.
Letting your body soften with each breath.
Feeling the support of the surface where you are sitting or lying down.
And sensing also the support of the ground beneath you.
There's nowhere to go right now.
Nothing else that you need to do.
Just being in this moment.
And I'd invite you to continue to bring awareness to your breath just as it is.
No need to change it,
Just observe.
Cool air entering the nostrils,
Warm air leaving.
And with each exhale,
Invite and allow your body to release tension.
Let your shoulders soften,
Your jaw unclench,
Your hands rest.
Allow your breath to anchor you into the present moment.
Let it be a gentle rhythm like waves or the whisper of spring wind.
And we'll continue to use the breath as an anchor for our focus for the next few minutes.
But if this anchor is difficult for you,
You might use your sense of hearing instead.
Simply noticing the arising and passing of sound.
And in either case,
Simply noticing when the mind has begun to drift away.
Moving into thinking or planning or interpreting.
Doing what the mind does.
Noticing and just gently bringing it back over and over to that anchor of your breath or the anchor of sound.
And I'd invite you to bring your attention to your feet now.
And imagine roots growing down from the soles of your feet,
Reaching down into the earth.
Feel the earth,
Still moist,
Still thawing,
Soft with spring mud.
That mud holds the promise of life.
Allow your awareness to travel upward through your body now.
Inviting a softening and releasing of tension in each part.
Starting with your feet.
Traveling upward through your ankles,
Your shins,
Calves,
Knees and thighs,
Through your hips and pelvis.
Slowly moving upward through your torso,
Your chest,
Shoulders,
Through both of your arms,
Your hands,
Neck and face.
Inviting your jaw to relax,
Your brow to smooth.
Relax.
Breathe gently into any place that feels tight or tense or stuck.
Inviting and allowing yourself to soften.
And now I'd invite you to imagine yourself walking in nature.
It's early spring.
The ground is damp,
Soft beneath your steps.
Patches of mud mark the thaw of winter.
Tiny green shoots peek through the soil.
Use your senses to take in the sights,
Sounds and any fragrances of this place where you're walking.
Perhaps you can hear some birdsong,
The gurgle of a nearby stream,
The rustle of new leaves,
Or the rustle of leaves on the grass.
You come to a quiet pond with a still surface.
Sit down beside it now.
Notice the cool air touching your skin,
Sunlight warming your back.
Look down into the pond and see the muddy bottom.
And above it,
Floating gently,
A single lotus blossom.
And for the next minute,
I'll be silent.
And invite you to pause here,
Breathing in the image of the lotus,
Relaxing by the quiet pond.
Mind wanders,
Simply bring it back to the image of the lotus floating on the surface of the pond.
Let the image of the lotus rest in your heart,
Bright,
Radiant and pure,
Rising from the dark,
Rich mud.
The mud is not the enemy,
It is the source.
I'd invite you to reflect now,
What has been your mud?
What difficulties,
Heartbreaks,
Or shadowy places have nourished your growth?
Take a few moments to gently acknowledge them and open yourself up to gratitude for the mud.
For the ways in which it teaches,
Transforms,
Prepares.
Thich Nhat Hanh taught,
No mud,
No lotus.
Without darkness,
No light.
Without struggle,
No strength.
Without winter,
No spring.
And now I'd invite you to imagine a seed within you.
One that is weighted quietly through winter.
Imagine it beginning to stir.
Feel it waking.
Feel the warmth of your breath and the light of your awareness nourishing it.
And ask yourself gently,
What is ready to grow in me now?
What wants to bloom?
Allow whatever arises to grow in you.
Allow it to be enough.
No need for editing or striving.
And hold it like a gardener.
Patient,
Trusting,
Kind.
Trusting the process.
Trusting yourself.
And when you're ready,
Let the image of the pond,
The mud,
The lotus,
And the seed to slowly begin to dissolve and just come back to your breath.
Inhale and exhale.
Feel your body resting.
Trusting that the seed within you has been planted.
The season will do its work.
Repeat to yourself silently,
I honor the mud.
I honor the lotus.
I welcome the bloom.
I trust the rhythm of the earth within me.
And as we bring our meditation practice to a close for now,
I'd invite you to simply sit with the wisdom of spring in your heart.
Trusting that you are both the mud and the lotus,
Whole,
Alive,
Becoming.
