What my heart holds I dare not reveal for fear it will float away. It is, you see, a tender dandelion puff.
Somehow, this small, delicate thing has dipped my world in honey—everything viscous, sweet and a little shiny. I have no interest in attending to the commitments of my days as I want nothing to do with actual doing and instead to lie naked wrapped in blankets reveling in this glow happening inside and all around.
What this puff contains I will not convey, but I can’t help but feel.
The seed in my heart has called for nurture in a most specific way. It asks to be carried to a quiet place and sat with for 30 days. It asks to be forgotten and allowed to serve others in discovering their own glow. So, this is what I shall do.
On Dec. 8 I leave the flowers and gentle climate of my Berkeley home for the snow, wind, and sharpness of the remote Colorado Rockies. There I will serve, connect, celebrate, contemplate, meditate, eat and sleep until January 12.
As I’ve revealed this plan to others I’ve been met with questions.
“You sit ALL DAY?”
“Will you be able to talk?”
“I could never clear my head of all thoughts!”
I too was incredulous that I’d one day sit for 30 minutes let alone 30 days, when I began meditating. To be honest, the prospect of sitting for this duration does fill me with a kind of fear somewhat like what pulsates through the body before jumping into a large body of water. While standing on the edge, the idea that you’ll soon be a wet, cold, small human in a sea of who-knows-what seems completely impossible. No thanks! I’m good. But others are jumping and you’ve committed. There’s also this teeny, tiny needling inside you that’s maybe excited to hurdle into the unknown. So you do it. You jump.
Once in the water, surprise, it’s actually quite pleasant. In fact, might you even prefer it to where you were? You begin to relax, enjoy the weightlessness of your body and this new landscape: everything shimmering, moving and alive. You feel connected to what is above and below. You’re part of it.
Now I stand on my edge. Having jumped before I have some sense of what I might encounter. There will be aching pines, innumerable stars and chilling wind. The warm ocean in this frozen landscape is the delicate puff carried in my being. Having tasted its tenderness, I want more.
I will sit on my cushion day-after-day and my head will entertain thought-after-thought. Some days I will feel sad, angry and insecure, others joyous and loving. All along I’ll be connecting to my heart, learning it, sharing it, testing its strength, and in this process becoming intimately familiar with what it means to be a human.
So, this is all to say farewell my friends until January. I’m grateful for you, your support, kindness and forgiveness of my grammatical errors.
My wish until we meet again is that you cuddle with someone you love, leave work early to watch the sunset, eat cookies with pleasured abandon and enjoy the magic in the in-between moments.