20 September 2007
A few days ago I was feeling a bit grotty and achy. I decided to stop drinking alcohol for a while and let my body get its energy back.
Yesterday I was feeling physically much better, though by the end of the day I had niggling back pain and was feeling impatient for a rest. So I wasn’t expecting much out of my evening meditation other than a bit of relaxation. But it turned into one of the most extraordinary meditations I’ve ever had.
I began by lying on the floor to rest my back, but I soon found the position to be uncomfortable—basically, my blood seemed to be pouring into my head, giving me a bursting feeling. Wearily, I sat on my chair and took up my usual meditation position. A sense of inner peace arose surprisingly easily. I’m not sure how I got to the next point, but it occurred to me to ‘offer’ or ‘present’ my inner state of peace to the universe, to the Divine, as though giving it a blank canvas to work on. As I did so, I felt a gentle but extremely potent uprising of fizzy energy into my head and my mind. The twilight of my peaceful state gave way to a lively inner brightness that was gorgeous to feel. The state became gradually more intense, and it felt to me as though the universe were responding to my offering by ‘moving in’. I had a sense of being the vehicle for another force.
My meditation was cut short as my wife arrived home, but the ecstatic open state continued for an hour or so afterwards.
Today I was looking forward to getting back to the same state again in my meditation, but for whatever reason it wasn’t the same. In fact, I had a shocking jabbing pain going downwards from the right side of my neck to the top of my right lung, as though I had been stabbed with a pencil. This pain began in the late afternoon and is still there.