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A mind in meditation

Everything had begun to blossom, the trees, the flowers, the bushes, the grasses, all that has a name and all that is nameless. The swallows were gliding above the lake, riding the wind high, swooping down, slicing the air hither and thither. One wonders if this is how they play, or is it how they pray?

The gust of air, warm for an early spring day, washed the leaves and branches of the weeping willow clean, under which the ducks and geese nested and rested for the next leg of their journey northwards, perhaps to the edge of the continent, to lands still covered in snow, the snow melting slowly as the sun climbs higher in the sky, an inch by the day. As the first buds shoot in those thick pine forests far far away, one’s heart begins to melt to the wonder of life, this eternal movement of a mysterious unfolding.

There arises at times a feeling that softens one’s brow, slows the breath down, heaves one’s chest open for the mystery to stream through one’s being, straight into one’s heart, where it can nest and bloom, its sweet fragrance seeping into every fiber of one’s being, to emanate into the world, softly, spontaneously.

Meditation is the movement of understanding the totality of existence. It is not merely an exercise to bring about a desired state of mind by repeating a set of prescribed patterns. Repetitive actions dull the mind and make it mechanical; while repeating a pattern may sharpen the mind in a narrow groove of life, a mechanical mind is not sensitive to the totality of existence, to the sorrows and joys of life, to its pleasures and pains, to the song of the trees and the birds. A mind in meditation is awake, sensitive to all that is, and hence can act intelligently, spontaneously.


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