Time Traveling Toward Enlightenment

My morning meditation started off with my usual opening prayer and then opening myself to the space of nothingness and everything. I have a personal ritual for beginning each meditation, which includes clearing out my "little life," as I like to call it, for the duration of my contemplation.

However, as I was entering the space of complete release and infinite possibility, I was feeling the chill of my bedroom air. I decided to transport my meditating self to someplace warm and comforting, at least energetically. I began to imagine myself on a quiet Caribbean beach; early enough in the day to be before any crowds arrived, and late enough to feel the heat of the sun on my skin and in the sand. I could see a few pelicans off-shore and there were several sailors with their vessels gliding silently across the horizon.

There I was, sitting cross-legged on the beach.......a position someone would have had to help me out of if I were actually doing it in real life.....feeling the toasty beach beneath me; the gentle, warm breeze rushing to greet me; and the sun's rays kissing my body at every exposed spot. It felt like heaven. I had no sooner immersed myself completely into the sensations of my imaginary surroundings when I could feel myself being pulled away from them. Initially, I resisted. "Come on," I said to myself. "Don't leave now. You just got here."

But, I also simultaneously remembered that I had consciously entered the meditation for the purpose of surrendering. So, I joyfully released the image of what I thought my mind wanted and went on a journey.

The pulling sensation was distinctly one of being sucked back in time. I could feel myself moving in reverse through my life, as snippets of situations and events flew by me like images out of Dorothy's window in the Wizard of Oz as the tornado took her aunt and uncle's house for a tumultuous ride.

Finally (which was really a matter of seconds in real time), I landed. I found myself standing at the foot of my father's hospital bed. It was the evening I first went to visit him after he had been electrocuted at his job. My 12 year old back was plastered to the wall opposite his bed. I was stunned. I did not know what to make of the distorted face of the man I dearly loved; the parent I most aligned myself with. I stayed in this place and time for no more than a minute or two. It was long enough for the significance of that particular event to settle deep in my being.

I have know for some time that I became someone different with my father's electrocution. I was the oldest of then six children, later seven, in a working-class family with no reserve resources. The times called for someone to step into the space left by my father's illness and recovery needs. I was best suited for the job; the "next in line," so to speak. Being a typical oldest child, I wanted to please. And, being bright, creative and capable, as well as having lots of energy, I became an adult in a 12 year-old body.

This image and the significance of it was of particular importance to me today. It is not necessary to share why with you. The embodiment of the sights, sounds, smells, feelings, and thoughts in that hospital room, as well as others' expectations of me at that time were critical to my understanding of myself today, at this moment in time.

It has taken me longer to write about this meditation than the actual meditation lasted. The relatively brief biographical movie in my head was powerful; it was also emotionally wrenching and wonderfully freeing. I am reminded that time travel, without agenda or expectation, can help to keep us consciously in the moment. It is important not to refuse to revisit what we must see to allow for our personal shifts.

Happy trails!