Spiky wanderers and master diggers,
Back feet pointing backwards,
And a sensitive snout for routing food.
Let's contemplate these slow masters of escape with surety of safety,
Echidna style.
Please feel free to follow this meditation in any position that is comfortable for you,
Whether that be sitting,
Standing,
Or lying down,
Inside the hollow of your favourite log if you're an Echidna.
Your eyes can be open or shut,
Whichever you prefer,
And you can open or shut them throughout the meditation if you like.
You might find it helpful to take a moment to settle in.
Wriggling into position by wiggling the toes or stretching the arms,
Or any other movement that takes your fancy.
If you are ready,
Let's take a moment to acknowledge whatever sounds may be around us.
Can you hear the hum of an electrical appliance,
The swish of a fan,
Or perhaps traffic passing by on its way to somewhere,
Or a bird singing in its favourite tree?
Is one sound more attractive than another,
Perhaps because it is louder or quieter and more secretive,
Or maybe because it has rhythm or a pleasant tone?
Take a moment to explore those noises.
Echidnas don't vocalise,
But they do hear.
As well as noises,
Sometimes we can detect vibrations,
Like an Echidna whose long beak or snout in the ground feels our footsteps coming near.
Perhaps a truck rumbling down a street makes your house rattle a little,
Or is everything perfectly still?
You could put your hands on whatever surface you are resting on and see if you can feel any movement.
The surface might even move a little with you,
Or is your body perfectly still?
From your head down through your neck,
Through your chest,
Through your legs,
To your feet,
Are you motionless,
Or are there tiny vibrations?
When your muscles move,
They give off little electrical charges.
Echidnas have electro-receptive organs that detect movement this way.
Imagine what that might be like.
Can you feel your clothes against your skin,
Your trouser leg or comfy leggings,
Or a t-shirt or jumper against your torso?
The slight is pressure,
But maybe your skin tingles a little under it.
Do you feel your clothes caressing you as you breathe?
Here is movement,
The rising and falling of your chest perhaps.
Is it slow and steady?
Perhaps like an echidna,
You are ready to roll into a ball,
Curled up in safety and comfort,
Paying attention only to the signals from your body,
Your breathing,
Your muscles,
Your skin.
You can curl up if you feel like it,
Or stay as you are,
Simply breathing and feeling.
An echidna is protected by his spikes,
And your body protects you too,
Wrapped in a sensory envelope guiding you through the world.
And when things seem heavy or daunting,
And the water seems deep,
Perhaps like our little spiky echidna friend who uses his snout as a snorkel,
You can learn to float,
Head straight and safely in the air.
If you are in a ball,
You could stick your nose out,
Just to feel the air safely swirl about you,
Or imagine floating safely on water or a cloud.
Echidnas have open territories and can wander widely across land and water,
Perhaps having a favourite wombat burrow that they might borrow from time to time.
Sharing space,
Like you might be in your resting place,
Perhaps you might like to think about what's around you.
Is it just your private spot,
Your couch or bed?
Or is it shared,
Perhaps you are under a tree in a park?
How does it feel?
Is it familiar?
Cozy?
Is there anything about the space that makes you feel curious?
The shape?
The light?
Texture?
Is it quiet where you are?
Are there noises nearby,
Either in your space or a neighbouring close-by space?
You might like to open your eyes and see the world you share,
Like an echidna sticking his head out of his burrow.
Unfurling from your ball and ready to move in safety,
Knowing that you can retreat and curl up whenever you need to.
Perhaps stretching out,
Ready to move back into shared physical or virtual spaces.
And yawning to welcome in the air,
Before resuming the day or tucking up in your burrow for a snooze.
Thanks for joining me in this contemplation.
Keep on,
Until anon.
