Last Sunday in retreat Minjur, my meditation teacher, led us through an exercise where we repeatedly ask "who is this I that is experiencing this meditation?", "where is the I that is experiencing this meditation?" The more I ask this question, the more I see how small and tight, imprisoned and in pain this "I" is. And the more that I see that it isn't even me. It really is like waking up from a dream, where you've been identifying with a character who feels like you but never was.
Here's the thing though. The de-stabilizing and challenging realization is that the "I" you're waking up with isn't really an I either. It's like an infinite peeling back until you realize that the whole idea of a center is something of an illusion.
So what's left?
One option is think, "well if every "I" is imaginary, why not imagine a stable, happier, more powerful I. Might as well. It won't last. No I's do. But it's better than the alternative, terrified, chaotic I. Or at least it feels better."
That's what I've been doing this week. Imagining myself in this cozy little palace, on top of some Tibetan type mountain, with a view that stretches out for a hundred miles. Feeling all the light and nectar and joy that would be available to me if I had the same power as the gurus in the Tibetan lineage that Mingyur Rinpoche is part of. As I do this I begin to feel those tiny veins of warmth begin to flow. And I imagine that they are no longer tiny, but a steady, strong flow of vitality. And then I am grateful for it as though I can already feel its full momentum. And then I do my best to believe that this is as real as the table I'm writing on right now.
And then the most important thing, I imagine that this enlightened energy is going out to everyone, Ben, my mother, my father, my brother and everyone. Everyone. And I am grateful for whatever way I am being a vehicle for this progression for all.
