Wind, Stone, Metal: 17 March 2013

It's been two weeks since I've last attended Meeting, and I miss it dearly. This week, I am in California on tour with my choir. It has been fun, but very busy, and there are 36 other women, which makes for an interesting dynamic. We've been go go go, so I was looking forward to some time for silence (hahaha, right). I did find a moment this morning on the bus, but it was strange. I think I'm going to try again before I go to sleep tonight, if I get a moment's chance.

The candle seemed so old and tired and pointless to me this morning. Too warm and cozy. A ball of wind came into mind and swept away the candle. That seemed much calmer, strangely. It bothered me less and sat more comfortably. If you've ever watched Avatar, The Last Airbender, the ball looked kind of like the ball of wind Aang sometimes sits on. And it swept the candle out of the way I imagine that blast of air over there might have, before forming into a ball.

So there I was with an empty field of vision except for this ball of air, and I was able to concentrate on it for a few minutes. It was a refreshing feeling. The contrast between envisioning your internal unity as a ball of air and as a candle flame is substantial - even though both of them are full of randomness and energy, the wind feels much more reckless, somehow, and freer. The candle feels self-aware and wise, but the wind feels full of energy and insight and spontaneity. There was a unique connection I experienced in that moment - the tight cohesion, the power, the intensity of the stillness. It didn't feel quite at peace, though. There was too much energy, it was spinning so fast. Like finding the eye of a hurricane: there's something magic, something intense, something pure about that spot, the spot that holds everything else together.

The faster it spun the more solid it became, until it had turned into a solid ball of rock. It never quit spinning - it kept going, with all the speed and energy, but with a power and firmness unlike that which it had had before. It sunk into a place in my gut that felt more centering than lifting, as the wind had felt. But as it kept accelerating, it condensed into a ball of metal - almost a stationary bullet, its turning indistinguishable. I might liken it to the ball of metal from last week, but it was almost gravitational in its density. Not just a power, but a nonchalant assumption that you recognized it as well.

I'm interested by this continuum in matters that appear in my meditations: from nothingness and vacuum to ethereal substances like fire and wind and light to solid objects like hearts, hands, tongues, balls to matter of inconceivable somethingness and density. It's as though my mind is sorting out a spectrum upon which to place my experiences in order that I might properly understand the value of aesthetic association.