The Wiggle Of The Way.

This contemplative meditation lets you settle like a stem in the quiet earth, you sway with the breath and begin to loosen the myths that once made you feel separate, as though you had arrived here from elsewhere.
The body softens into a living bridge, and what you took to be “you” reveals itself as a flowing pattern—like a whirlpool, shaped yet never fixed, the universe moving in place.
You are not a fragment cast adrift, but the very momentum of the cosmos, the original fire still burning through your thoughts, your senses, your quiet capacity to be. Music credited to Bensound, Royalty Free.

Transcript

Settling into your place here, For this contemplative meditation. Letting your weight settle into the earth. Letting the spine be soft and flexible. A vertical axis, Neither rigid nor collapsed, But held like a stem. Allowing the rhythm of your breath to sway you like a reed in a gentle breeze. Welcome to this meditation. My name is David. We begin by acknowledging the common sense we carry. The invisible architecture of myths in the mind. One myth may have taught us to feel like a stranger here. A brief flicker of consciousness trapped in a bag of skin. Or perhaps you have been told you came into this world. As if you had arrived from somewhere else. A passenger stepping onto a cold mechanical platform. But look at the breath. It does not belong to you. It is the atmosphere passing through your lungs. Let go of the idea you are a finished object. Feel the boundaries of your body not as a wall but as a bridge. The skin is not a container. It is a sensitive membrane through which the inside and the outside carry on a continuous pulsing conversation. Consider the myths we live by. Like the ceramic model. Where you are a pot shaped by the hands of a distant master. Or the automatic model. Where you are a fluke of blind energy. A lonely gear in a heartless clock. These are only metaphors. Nets we throw over a wiggly world to try to catch it. Perhaps we can drop the net. There was a time when we sought the hard grain of reality. But the deeper we look, More that grain dissolves into pattern. Like mountain mist that appears solid from afar. It reveals itself as a dance of droplets up close. You are a pattern of movement. You are a welling. Can you imagine a stream of clear water? See a whirlpool forming in the current. The whirlpool has a shape. You can recognise it. Name it. And even return to it tomorrow. But no water stays within it. The river flows through. And the whirlpool is what the river is doing at that exact spot. You are what the universe is doing right here. Right now. As you. In this spot. Let us shift the perspective. You did not come into this world. You came out of it. Think of an apple tree. In tune with its seasonal rhythm. The tree apples. It bursts into fruit. The fruit is not an encounter with the tree. It is an expression of the tree's innermost nature. In the same way. This world. Peoples. The stars. The deep silences of space. The ancient heat of the earth. All of this has flowered into your eyes. Your nervous system. Your capacity to love. You are a symptom of the whole. Go back. Past the labels of your name and your history. If there was an explosion billions of years ago. Do not think of yourself as a stray spark thrown from the fire. You are the fire still burning. The original movement has not stopped. It is moving through your hands. Wiggling through your thoughts. Looking out through your pupils. You are the primordial energy of the cosmos. Pretending for a little while to be a person. Perhaps you can imagine an ink bottle hurled with force against a vast white wall. Shattering it. At the centre the impact is dense and dark. The origin of the explosion. At the centre a dense and thundering sun. But as the ink spreads outward it becomes fine, Intricate, Filigreed and complex. Long after the initial strike. At the very furthest edges of the splatter. Delicate, Beautiful curlicues of colour and pattern remain. Fractal patterns of personality. We may sense ourselves as the tiny, Complicated droplets at the furthest fringe of the spray. Delicate filigrees lost in the distance. But we forget that we carry the momentum of the original strike. And that our unique pattern you here now. At the very edge of the splashing. Are echoes of the totality of everything. Like that ink you are a complicated, Beautiful curlicue of lace. On the very fringe of an explosion. But here is the secret. You are not a result of that explosion. Standing separately at the end of time. You are the continuing momentum of that original moment. You are the explosion. You are the primordial energy of the universe. Still ringing, Still moving. Becoming you in this particular way. The universe is one single, Seamless wiggle and pattern. There are no separate things. Only different movements of the same dance. Notice the relief in this. You do not have to conquer nature. For you are nature. You do not have to fight the world. For you are the world's very own way of experiencing itself. Perhaps for a little while. You can stay with this sensation of being the entire process. Perhaps the only philosophy worth betting on. Is the one you truly belong to. Not as a guest. Not as a machine. Not as a fluke of consciousness. But as the whole thing. Doing itself in this particular wiggly way. At the edges of a cosmic ink splatter. That still reverberates through you. Becoming you. And here you are. One thing. Doing everything. You are not a fluke between the maternity ward and the crematorium. You are the eternal self-designing pattern. That has been unfolding forever. And will continue to do so. Changing shape. Playing new games. Blooming across a thousand galaxies. Slowly. Begin to feel the space around you. The quiet. The stillness. Where your awareness arrived. Before thought arose. The soft widening. At the centre of everything. Try to remember. That we are the wiggly momentum of that original strike of ink. The original explosion. And that our unique pattern. You. Here. At the very edge of the splashing. Echoes the totality of everything. There will be no bale to signal the end of meditation. Rather. Slowly. And gently. Let the wiggle of your breath guide you back into your day. And try not to step back into the old myths that tell you who you are. You are no less than the beautiful filigreed curlicue pattern. At the edges of the original explosion.

Reviews

Wonderful meditation thankyou was a great start to my day has made me feel very grounded & so relaxed Thankyou so much 💞✨