Be Still And Know That I Am God

"Be still and know that I am God." from Psalm 46:10

"All the way to heaven is heaven itself, for Jesus said I am the way" Catherine of Sienna.

I knelt in silence that Monday morning. I have not been meditating long, and frankly I think I am still mostly kneeling quietly which is accomplishment enough. And that morning I was behind schedule (and that is nothing unusual). And I had committed myself to a fixed morning schedule, and to not trying to "catch up". The computer had started the "warm-up" music and I had slept through the relaxation exercise and the recording had started the meditation exercise before I was even reaching for my contacts.

But I was determined I would meditate for the remaining 15 minutes before my run.

I practically jumped into position on my cushion and mat. They say that after meditation one should spring from the cushion and out into the world to work for justice and peace. I remember laughing to myself about how prepared I was decked out in my running clothes and ready to go!

There was no time for the usual focussing - and the exercise had come and gone. I don't think I could do it again, but I silenced my mind sharply and almost immediately.

I was intensely silent. And then I felt something. First from me. So much had happened in the previous days for which I was so thankful. I really felt blessed, and although it was kinda outside the rules I let myself be filled with that feeling of gratitude and then - without moving - I cast the gratitude upward. I don't mean physically - I remained kneeling, my hands folded in my lap, my eyes staring unfocussed straight ahead at the wall a few inches from my face - nothing moved.

My mind felt so intense and powerful without the noise of everyday life and with the single feeling of gratitude flowing through me.

And then it happened. I felt something else. Not from me this time, and not directly from outside. Rather it was that I knew that the gratitude flowing through me had reached its destination. Like one of those childhood phone systems with two cups and a string - the string went taut. I wasn't just sending out gratitude, it was received and returned.

My gratitude became love. The intense, pure kind of love I have felt as a child when thought about how exactly I felt about my mother. I can't think of a human love as primary as a boy's love for his mother at this point in my life, but this one was bigger, older, even more primal. It felt like it came from deeper than me. By that I mean deeper than the 'I' that is writing this. Suddenly all those stories of angels who sing in praise of God all day and all night for all eternity all made sense. I sat perfectly still while my heart sang.

And it was clear that this was not a one-way flow of affection. I felt poured onto me more love, affection and pleasure than I could have previously imagined. I was transfixed in an exchange of love with my Creator. A Creator I could neither see nor hear, who did not speak but who I felt with utmost certainty and whose love I can never again doubt.

This lasted for about eight minutes - although thinking back it seems both longer and shorter. As if I were momentarily outside of time. Then the mediation music changed signalling time to begin preparing for my run.
When I talked to a Buddhist friend about this later he immediately asked me if it was like sex. Of course not, I said. But, thinking it a bizarre automatic question, I asked why.

He told me that this was why the Buddha had insisted on his monks being celibate. The Buddha had felt that a sexual relationship would become confused with direct experiences with the Oneness which are part of the goals of meditation. And although I hadn't thought about it as that kind of ecstasy, I could see how it could affect a relationship. But that is something that would take much more thought than I have given this topic yet. But I can say this: it was incredibly sustaining. It happened weeks ago and I am still so refreshed by eight minutes of communion!