Every morning, I like to take a walk. Because it’s still early and quiet and because I’m usually coming out of an inwardly focused time of meditation, I deliberately don’t wear my contact lenses or glasses – even though I’m extremely near-sighted. This time becomes an opportunity to (safely) experience the world out of “normal” focus.
What happens? Everything looks softened. Nothing stands out in distinct relief, whether it’s a tree or a light or a person or a car. There’s a kind of halo or aura at the edges of all the particular things. The world morphs from being a series of solid, dense, concrete “things,” into a porousness that can almost be seen through.
When my eyes perceive a tree, I’ll imagine seeing deeper within – almost at the molecular level – to the vibrating core of its essence. Walking by a stream, the water’s movement melds into its banks, echoing the ever-flowing movement of water in my veins, throughout my body. As the world is less distinct, so am I less separate from it. We are flowing together, from one now moment into the next.
Why bother to do this? Certainly I miss things, like if I walk by someone I know, I won’t necessarily recognize them. And yet this daily experience is deliberately taken to open up my vision into what I might not normally perceive. The spaciousness that exists within what seems solid. The blurring of boundaries. The softness behind what looks hard. The halo of light that surrounds even the most mundane, overlooked stuff of our world.
When I get home then it’s time to for the glasses or contacts and getting on with the practicalities of the day – but throughout the moments ahead, I try to remind myself of that deeper awareness, that blurring of boundaries between all that appears hard and solid. When I look at someone or something, my intention is to see what’s below the surface, into the deeper source, the halo of light, the spark at the core of each person and thing. Every time I deliberately look more deeply, what I discover is light. Space. Beauty. Love.
You can say it’s not world peace – yet in my world, it kind of feels like it.
Susan Drury
https://www.susandrury.com