Describing milk…

When I had my recent revelation about the whole ‘physical not really being concrete/permanent/solid’ thing, I joyfully came home to my Beloved/Teacher to share my exciting news with her. After I had finished speaking, she told me that that knowing, that piece of wisdom is something that all of her students (at one point or another) ask her to teach them, and she continually and consistently disappoints them when she says that it cannot be taught. It is something that needs to be lived, to be experienced, and re-membered. Sure, she can provide the words and talk until her face turns blue, but it is not a concrete, teach-able thing and no amount of her talking will help it to sink in faster, to become more real, True in their space. People get it when they get it. It’s like describing milk or some other similar staple. What does it taste like? Well, it tastes like milk. You can say it’s creamy (depending a bit on whether you’re drinking skim or whole or anything in between), but that describes more the texture, not the taste. You can say it tastes better when it’s cold than warm, but that doesn’t provide any real additional information. It’s a little sweet perhaps, but not like chocolate or candy. In the end, you can talk around it, but to describe the taste of milk is not an easy feat, and no one will walk away from that discussion knowing exactly what it tastes like (as opposed to if they ask you about calculus and you can give them a formula for solving some proof and walk them through it so you know they really have it when the conversation ends) until they can taste it for themselves.

What follows in the remainder of this post might be like me describing milk to you. It’s another piece of wisdom that I’ve recently encountered and dug up from my depths to re-member. And while it might be like me describing milk, perhaps the words I use to point to the direction of this wisdom will be helpful to you on your own journey. On the other hand, I know that I have a tendency to forget lessons and wisdom from time to time, even if I’ve experienced them before. If this is something you’ve experienced and perhaps forgotten, perhaps this will be a happy reminder for you.

I was spending some time in meditation this past week, intending to focus on being instead of doing (a challenge for me), and sitting with the whole balance and dynamic between the physical and the spiritual, the mundane and the sacred. As I easily default to a rather cerebral setting in my space, I was considering the idea that I need to be grounding in the spiritual and not the physical as I have been. For the past couple weeks, I’ve struggled with that because I kept approaching it from a place of black and white thinking. As I was simply sitting with it – just sharing space with it and not trying to DO anything about it or figure it out – I re-membered something. Nothing is mundane. Everything is sacred. The physical is not separate from the spiritual. It was a light-bulb moment. Then, I went to ground. I frequently use a visualization of tree roots anchored deep into the Earth when I ground. Instead of seeing that space and my roots in Earthy colored tones, though, as I typically have before, this time, it was like they were gossamer. Some irridescent, opal-y, shimmery color. And I breathed again.

In a recent correspondance with one of my favorite people out there in blogworld, Sue Ann, I had described the “high” I’d experienced at my recent epiphany and the subsequent low, lost, and disoriented sensation that came shortly thereafter. She normalized it for me and described it as the “trampoline effect,”  indicating that commonly after revelations like this, there is a period of coming down. I had reflected on these words and decided for myself that, in my pursuit of growth and unfolding, I intended to have many more of these moments of re-membrance, and I decided that coming down like I did with that recent one just didn’t fly for me. So what was it about my experience of that which led to the trampolining? The answer I found within myself was attachment. When I experience something so awe-some as those moments, I tend to try to hold on to them. I death-grip them in my hands until my knuckles are white. But that defeats the whole Truth about those moments. Those moments are me re-membering inner, Divine wisdom that I’d forgotten. When I treat them as if they came from outside my Self by clinging to them, the only thing that can happen is for them to get wrenched out of my hands because I am reinforcing the idea that they were not a part of me to begin with. 

So when I experienced this moment of realization and knowing in some small measure that nothing is mundane, I consciously chose (and find that I need to keep consciously choosing) not to try to hold on to it, but rather to simply breathe it, to be present with it, and to be grateful to have re-membered it. Like a large multi-faceted jewel, my inner wisdom tells me that I have experienced just one facet of this Truth, that there are many more facets of it, different layers of it to experience. And instead of allowing myself to fall into a pattern of thinking that pessimistically looks at how much more there is to go, I am consciously choosing to instead remain present and grateful in this moment.

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2 thoughts on “Describing milk…

  1. Your teacher is very wise, and you as well 🙂 No matter how eloquent and knowledge-filled the words, the things of the spiritual must be obtained through personal experience. Of this I am certain.

    And once we have that experience, our entire world shifts on it’s axis, and we see things from a brand new perspective. The highs and lows are incorporated and assimilated, and balance is resumed.

    This up and down and in and out will go on and on, as long as we have breath (which, in and of itself, goes in and out – MUST go in and out! That IS life!) What a ride, huh? 🙂

    I love how in touch you are with this..how self aware. Thank you for sharing. Reading your words (and that of signmoms) reminds me why I fell in love with blogging in the first place. I had *somehow* forgotten.

    love and peace

  2. (((Grace))) Many thanks and much gratitude for you and your words. I’m glad to hear that you’ve remembered your love of blogging – yours is one of my most favorite places to visit and each time I come see you and see a new post, I get a giggly excitement in my belly because I love how you share your Self.

    Love and peace to you as well

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