Morning Meditations #98: Blissful Silence

MM 98 A
I plan on taking a tour of some other local, smaller libraries while I am in the area.

Last night after arriving at my destination, I had less than two hours of daylight. Unloading only that which was necessary to get the tent up, the sense of urgency brought a businessman like demeanor to my features. Knowing full well that if I got the tent up and all of my sleeping gear inside, I could wander in at anytime of night and at least find a place to sleep. After all, one never knows what will happen when the rum begins to flow, the fire sparks and crackles, and I begin to meditate like a drunken master.

Happy to report that I didn’t do anything detrimental to my health or get lost on the way to my tent, which is admittedly not hard to find if there is but a sliver of moonlight. A flashlight may be needed to check the path or to watch for sneakily built evening spiderwebs, but the tent’s gray side is like a beacon in the enveloping darkness of the cedar grove that is nighttime in Peenedmunde. In that darkness, with a quite mind, I would feel the first welcoming of the land.

The decision to make the meditation a simple one didn’t come with difficulty. I had already been on the road for nearly seven hours for other family vacation tasks, and I am lucky I was able to meet someone halfway, or there would have been ten hours of drive time. I sat on the collection of sawed off logs on the north side of he fire pit facing the pond, with a the Zafu we, Team Peenemunde, keep out there for just such occasions, and it provides a far more comfortable cushion for the wicker chairs that occupy the seating niche at the cabin. I had also kept the fire small. Too much heat would have been an unwelcome distraction in already very distraction filled environment, as evenings out there are not quite ones during the seasons of life.

The frogs, crickets, katydids, whippoorwill, bats, coyotes, and other unknown beasts keep the nights almost roaring with sound. Amidst the cacophony, meditation requires a lot of focus on maintaining an internal quiet. Sounds erupting from all around, and all at once, mingle with the tendency for synapses to fire, creating entire lines of thoughts and images. Sometimes these seem to be related to the stimuli, others seem to come from nowhere, unrelated from the point of observable consciousness. This night, my well-practiced mind did not fail me, and instead allowed me to nearly effortlessly let thoughts go as they came. I never let one spin out into a loop, or take control of my emotions. I felt in the most control of my mind as I wold want to be. Thoughts were allowed to create themselves; I would take notice, hearing them fully before letting them go into breath.

Then silence after is blissful.

MM 98 B
A view of the Fort Smith Public Library’s back yard from my writing/reading table.

The most fun I will have today is yet to be seen, or may have in fact already been experienced. There is no telling. To write this, I sit inside the Fort Smith, AR public library for the first time. It nice, fairly standard, which is comforting, but means that some of the specialist items I would be looking for may not be here. And truthfully I am okay with it.

I have already generated a list of local businesses I am going to patron while in the area rather than supporting large corporate entities, even though most of the products carried are made and designed by giant corporations, at least I can filter some of my resources thorough locals.

I admit that feels good too.

So off I go to a few of those businesses then back out to my happy hideaway to write, read, study, meditate, and be whole every minute of this most precious time—life.

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