Dropping in,
Then.
Dropping in.
Like we might have dropped in for tea with someone all those years ago when we could visit people.
Dropping in for a little quiet moment with ourselves.
Dropping in,
Checking in.
With an intention to simply hang out.
No mad purpose,
No intense desires to discover or find out or fix,
Especially not to fix.
Simply this friendly dropping in.
And we might notice for a moment how we're talking to ourselves as we drop in.
What's the tone of voice?
And if we were to sit down next to ourselves.
How might the conversation begin?
Listening closely for a while to the chatter,
To the words or shapes,
Images,
Sensations and feelings.
That flurry that comes up when we first drop in or come into contact.
And gradually as the kettle boils and the tea is brewed and we plump up a cushion.
And maybe we come a little bit more into body,
Kick off our shoes.
We might feel a heaviness,
Something that allows us to relax back and settle down a little more.
This heaviness of the human body.
This gravity really,
Something that enables us to ground,
Stable and changing and always welcoming.
A once more c whatever it makes during the sentences.
.
.
.
.
And today while I was singing that beautiful song,
The Long Time Sun,
I was reflecting how often the song is assumed to be some ancient blessing from the Irish or sometimes Sufi traditions,
When actually it was written by a Scottish man called Mike Heron.
And it occurred to me how easy it is for us to look elsewhere for our spiritual traditions,
For our spiritual inspiration,
To look outside of our own culture,
Our own land,
Our own bodies,
Our own minds,
Our own hearts,
Rather than to look at this ground that is there right beneath our feet,
This body,
This heart,
This mind that is with us,
And to look to that for our spiritual inspiration,
Our wisdom,
To look closer to home.
And because it wasn't gifted by an elder,
It might feel like we don't have permission to make it up.
But it feels to me like these spiritual traditions were always moving,
Always flexible,
Always responsive.
So let's tune into our own response right now.
A response of body,
Sitting right next to ourselves,
Tuning in,
Knowing how we are,
Knowing how the mind is moving,
Where it's moving to,
And how it comes back.
How to call it back,
How to call ourselves home.
How to call it back.
How to call it back.
Can we allow ourselves to feel right at home,
Right now?
Hot cup of tea,
Feet up,
Shoes off,
Body comfortable as it can be.
What would it take to drop in a little deeper,
To draw in a little closer?
And I'm smiling because the words came,
Have you taken your coat off?
And then have you taken your bra off?
What else can you take off to feel more at home?
Not just clothing,
Some resistance we might take off or meet where it is so that it melts,
So that it is able to melt.
Let's take that.
Is there anything else that would support that willingness?
Willingness to drop deeper,
Draw closer.
Meet ourselves right where we are.
If we were to maybe feel some kind of opening,
It might be in the heart,
It might be in the mind that the ears could tune in even more finely.
It might be a degree of sharpness in the mind that perceives something a little more clearly.
It might be drawing on some extra courage or curiosity to move beyond some almost hidden barrier that would take us into that other place or zone.
Something really beyond body,
Maybe even beyond mind.
Where shape and form falls away.
And what we meet,
What we become is pure beingness.
When it comes to the growth of some experiences.
And it may be possible even without shape and form to hold the mind on or in this formlessness.
And it may be possible even without shape and form to hold the mind on or in this form.
And it may be possible even without shape and form to hold the mind on or in this form.
And it may be possible even without shape and form to hold the mind on or in this form.
And it may be possible even without shape and form to hold the mind on or in this form.
And it may be possible even without shape and form to hold the mind on or in this form.
So I might begin to kind of look around.
At the internal world.
Add another layer of consciousness of noticing how it is.
Not necessarily with words right now but something maybe that invites a little more breath.
Maybe become more aware of the body.
Hands.
Maybe tongue inside the mouth.
I bring a small movement.
Exploratory.
To rub four fingers against the thumb.
Maybe that feeling we get when we know that in a while we're gonna finish that cup of tea.
Wind up that conversation.
Think about asking for our coat,
Our shoes.
Just thinking about it.
Kind of reluctant.
And then something like how we'd leave that good friend.
What we might say.
What tone of voice.
And we might thank them for the time we've spent together.
For their presence.
For their welcome.
For the tea.
