Rejoining the party

I went for coffee after teaching this weekend with a dear friend and student. She told me about a psychedelic experience she had at a party where she took mushrooms, stepped away from the rest of the group, found herself in profound contemplation, meditating on life’s big questions and very matter-of-fact she described  wrapping up the experience when she metaphorically slapped a knee and told herself, “right, time to rejoin the party.” I love this, because all of us at some point after whatever kind of time out, are faced with rejoining the party. 

Last week I spent a few days walking in the French Alps. I separated from the rest of the group to experience these monolithic mountains, titanic in size. The sound of cattle bells bounced across valleys of colossal rocks, birds swooped, honey bees nuzzled white thistle flowers which magically close to protect its precious pollen on detection of the first signs of moisture or rain, water carving rock in powerful turquoise flowing rivers rushing to join the lakes at lower altitudes, fingers of towering scented pine trees combing the warm wind which whipped my cheeks. As I reconnected to this human capacity for awe, a visceral embrace from this magnificent landscape, I wanted to catch it all in a butterfly net and keep it forever. It was magic. Rejoining the group often meant somebody waiting for me, an outstretched hand, fingers interlacing through mine. A rejoining, guided silently back to the group. And I needed this.

In his talk on Love of Waters philosopher Alan Watts reflects

on this human ability to observe and objectify everything around us, he warns “In being able to stand aside from life and think about it, he (human) put himself outside it and found it alien.”  And so it’s important to recognise that our introspection must be brought back to our every day life. We cannot keep what we find hidden for ourselves. Meditation teacher and writer Jack Kornfield says: “ In the end, we must bring our practise down from the mountain and into our everyday life. For almost everyone who practises, cycles of awakening and openness are followed by periods of fear and contraction. Times of profound peace are often overtaken by the messy realities of the regular world.”

Being driven back to the airport after this trip I couldn’t stop crying. I was overwhelmed by this reconnection to our Mother Earth, beautiful and unmovable, no matter our trampling of this all powerful, magnificent planet, she will still be here long after we are not. And yet we are her, she is us. It held all the purity of true love. Kornfield adds “This peace is not meant to be kept in a treasure chest, it is meant to be spent. Our quiet reflection allows us to see how connected we truly are to everyone else. When we get up from our practice, we return to the world with eyes that see more clearly and a heart that is ready to serve, to listen and to love.”