The Hello.
This is Jacob Watson with a guided visualization of pilgrimage including three silent times for reflection and meditation.
Years ago,
I heard the meditation,
Sath-citta-ananda,
Which means existence,
Consciousness and bliss,
And adopted it as my daily mantra.
Then I went on a pilgrimage to India,
Where I lived for a month in a Hindu-Christian ashram called Shanti-vanam,
Forest of peace,
The name of the piece of land on which it is built.
This ashram is also called satchitananda,
A word made from the sacred mantra sath-citta-ananda.
Satchitananda is a classic Hindu name for the divine.
This interfaith ashram is a place of meeting for Hindus and Christians where people of all religions,
Or none,
Genuinely seek God,
Blending all practices of mysticism,
And a place where existence,
Consciousness and bliss are in the air,
In the trees,
On the paths,
And of course in the temple.
I invite you to join me now on a pilgrimage to the Shanti-vanam ashram,
And to walk the ancient paths from my hut to the small pink marble temple in the early morning,
Midday and evening,
And arrive relaxed at your own spiritual home.
In our daily prayer at the ashram,
The beloved community of pilgrims makes constant use of the sacred syllable om.
This word with universal meaning was originally a form of affirmation similar to the Hebrew word amen.
It is a primal and primordial sound,
The original sound or word from which creation itself arose and continues to arise.
It is true that any pilgrimage begins way before you leave and continues well after you return home.
Indeed,
Your version of home itself will change.
Of course,
You do not have to leave your home to go on a pilgrimage,
As the poets remind us.
So here and now,
Join me as beloved community members on this pilgrimage to our own inner ashram to discover,
To uncover the existence,
Consciousness and bliss that live within us.
In fact,
The qualities describe not only what we have,
But who we are.
Now we join the silence of walking the ashram path in the early morning,
Our early morning pilgrimage.
It is before sunrise and light is beginning to melt the night's darkness.
We can barely see the path,
Yet we know there is a path.
It is as if our feet know the way,
If we can only trust putting one foot in front of the other.
The air of the ashram is still cool,
Yet the very atmosphere seems to sigh the words,
Sat,
Chit,
Ananda,
Existence,
Consciousness and bliss.
We can feel the dust of the path under our feet and off through the darkness we can hear the gentle sounds,
The swish of other feet walking the path.
Let us join the silence of our pilgrimage at this very beginning of the day,
Walking out of the darkness into the slowly coming light,
Not knowing what we will find at this new ashram,
Yet trusting in the intention of our pilgrimage,
Willing to let go of the familiar and enter the unknown.
Thank AAskManchester.
We are in the unknown.
We have arrived in the place that is not a place,
But a state of being.
There is nothing to do here.
While it feels new,
It is also strangely familiar,
Yet not strange.
It is as if we have been here before.
The more we stay present here and stay awake,
The more familiar it feels.
For now,
Thoughts seem irrelevant.
They come and go so quickly they blur and disappear into nothing.
Yet,
Faint words are heard as if they come up from the dusty path below or down from the unseen trees overhead.
The things are sāt-citta-ananda,
Existence,
Consciousness,
Bliss.
We do not know who speaks them or if they are spoken,
But they are present,
Reverberating all around and increasingly inside.
We hear them or perhaps they hear us.
It is as if the entire ashram is gently breathing them to us.
Now we walk on our pilgrimage at midday,
Another stage.
At noontime,
Now the dusty path feels familiar,
Welcoming,
Peaceful.
Coming out of the silence,
We can feel that our feet knew the way,
Even choosing to step on the path out of hot sunlight onto areas of cool shade provided by the overarching palm trees.
Our intention carries us forward without effort.
Time itself stands still or doesn't exist.
In the middle of this pilgrimage,
Perhaps a whole day goes by,
Perhaps a hundred years,
And all the while the words sāt-citta-ananda,
Existence,
Consciousness,
And bliss,
Fill the very atmosphere in the ashram and inside ourselves.
We are at the zenith of our pilgrimage.
Did it ever begin and will it ever end?
It is as if we have become our pilgrimage.
Now it is early evening on our pilgrimage,
Yet another stage,
Different yet familiar in a new way.
The light has changed now,
Is fragile,
Moving toward rest,
The silence of walking the late evening path in fading twilight.
In this enveloping darkness that somehow still holds light,
After this silence,
We have a sense of a whole day gone by,
Or was it a week,
Or a month,
Or longer?
We remember being on a journey,
Walking,
We remember a path,
But was there ever a path?
Did we have to move at all?
This journey,
This pilgrimage,
Was perhaps all interior,
And now,
As the light softly fades,
A sense of even greater peace comes,
A resting time,
A time to allow a deep rest,
A forgetting,
Because no doing is necessary.
There is no need to know anything,
No need to remember what to do.
A deeply quiet and relaxing time is here,
But not time at all,
Just the silence born of conviction,
A deep knowing that I am home in my inner ashram,
My true home,
Not only a sanctuary,
But existence itself.
Here in the ashram,
I hear woven in with the soft sounds of OM,
SAT,
CHIT,
ANANDA,
I am existence,
Consciousness,
Bliss.
We now come to a close of this pilgrimage,
Yet is not every moment a pilgrimage when we are awake and alive,
Awareness,
Consciousness,
And bliss itself,
Where every present moment,
Free from habits of the past and projections of the future,
Bursts with unlimited potential.
For now,
We are through walking the path,
For we have arrived at the pathless journey,
This place that is not a place,
But our true nature,
The self that is beyond understanding,
Yet fully known to us and to God.
Here you join all the other pilgrims that ever walked on a pilgrimage to find their soul,
Or rather these pilgrims join you.
They are multitudes,
Each and all are with you here and silent together in the great silence that is always present,
Always available,
Holding you,
Holding all,
Underneath,
Above,
And beyond everything.
This is the sacred place of pilgrimage where you know your true self,
Your soul,
For the first time,
For the last time,
Out of time,
Where you own and become your existence,
Your consciousness,
Your bliss.
We will conclude as we began,
Now coming full circle,
With the sound of the singing bowl ringing three times,
The sound coming and then going back into the eternal silence,
The eternal pilgrimage.
