This meditation is dedicated to the Great Mother,
Gaia,
Mother of us all,
And to the summer cross,
That seasonal moment after the summer solstice,
Before the autumnal equinox,
Sometimes known in different cultures as Lannis or Lannasa or various other names,
That it falls around the beginning of August in the Northern Hemisphere,
The beginning of February in the Southern Hemisphere,
And in the background there you're hearing a recording of crickets serenading each other in the deep,
Swampy woods,
Recorded by a guy named Hoppa Phil.
I'm not sure where he recorded these,
But it sounds a lot like deep summer to me.
I'm in the deep,
Swampy woods of New Orleans,
And wherever you are,
I'm inviting you to take a moment,
Get comfortable,
Make sure you're seated comfortably,
You can be sitting upright with an erect spine if that feels good,
Just as long as you're supported and comfortable,
And please just take a moment to notice what it's like,
Wherever you are.
Feel the particular experience of this moment,
Of your being,
The physical sensations,
The support beneath you,
The air on your skin,
Inside your body,
If you're aware of any tension,
Just let it go,
And bring your attention just to lie lightly on the cycle of the breath.
Start just by noticing the breath,
What it's like,
Breathing in,
Breathing out,
And how it has a circular quality to it,
A cyclical quality.
So many of the other cycles within us,
And all around us,
The cycles of the natural world,
The cycle of the day,
The cycle of the year,
Can enhance this by just making sure that we're breathing,
Yeah,
More or less normally,
But maybe a little more deeply,
A little more full,
Deep,
Gentle,
Regular breathing,
In a rounded sensation,
And notice how the breathing in is like the rising of the light,
For half of the year,
The days just get longer and longer,
And the exhalation is like the light subsides,
The other half of the year when the days get shorter,
And the cycle just keeps happening,
Breathing in,
Increasing light and life,
And warmth,
And heat,
Breathing out,
That all recedes into a little more darkness,
A little less heat.
Continuing this cycle,
You can feel with each breath in,
This rising tide of life energy comes along with that energy from the sun,
It peaks,
One might think,
At the top of the breath,
Which is analogous to the summer solstice,
The longest day of the year,
And then we begin to exhale,
But there's another peak,
There's the phenomenon known as seasonal lag,
After the solstice,
It continues in most parts of the world to continue to get warmer,
And the life processes engendered by the sun continue to become even more energetic,
We can simulate this in our breathing,
We can find the summer cross moment in the cycle of the breath,
It might be helpful as you breathe in,
Wonderful,
Long-full,
Life-giving air,
Is to hold that breath,
Just briefly,
Hold it once you have the fullness of your breath,
And feel that fullness,
And then feel the urge to let go,
And exhale.
So for this meditation,
We're going to try breathing in,
Holding briefly,
And then breathing out when you feel that urge,
That subtle urge to let go of the breath.
That is the summer cross moment.
That is the moment in the cycle of our breath that corresponds to the seasonal moment in the wheel of the year,
And I'm curious about what we can learn from this moment,
What we can learn from that urge to let go.
You breathe in with the desire to live,
To bring in that life-giving oxygen,
Then you feel that desire to let go of that breath,
The urge to release,
And there's a transformation there.
It's necessary.
No matter how great that breath was,
We have to let go of it in order to make way for the next breath.
And if it's helpful,
As you continue breathing in,
Holding briefly,
And then letting go,
If it's helpful,
You can visualize this cycle with an image of your brain,
A stalk of wheat,
Perhaps,
Or maybe some other plant,
A fruit,
As you breathe in,
This grain ripens,
Reaches its point of maximum ripeness,
And you're holding that breath,
And then as you let go,
It can be harvested.
Perhaps,
Ground up into flour,
And made into a loaf of bread,
So with each breath,
The plant sprouts,
Grows,
It matures,
It ripens,
And then it's transformed into something different.
This seasonal moment is traditionally associated with the beginning of the harvest,
The grain harvest in particular.
So we can say that this is about gathering in,
But also letting go,
Recognizing that we all will be transformed at some point.
That we dissolve into the greater being of God.
Just as our breath has to be let go to make room for the next breath.
Just as the wheat might be harvested,
And transformed into something nourishing for us,
So we too recognize that we dissolve into the larger being of God.
Glennis Livingston writes that we dissolve into the night of the larger organism that we are part of,
Gaia,
It is she who is immortal,
From whom we arise,
And into whom we dissolve.
The way Livingston puts it,
We are the process itself,
We are Gaia's process.
You borrow the breath for a while,
It is like a relay,
We pick the breath up,
Create what we do during our time with it,
And pass it on.
So we might,
At this moment,
Dedicate ourselves,
Or rededicate ourselves,
To this greater good,
This greater being,
In whom we participate.
And so it's always appropriate to end with a note of gratitude to our ancestors,
And our teachers,
And to Gaia,
Without whom you would not be here,
As we are.
We receive this moment as a gift.
May we honor her with our actions.
