The moment I meandered up the small hill passing fragrant Eucalyptus trees along the way, I sensed a different frequency. Something felt so right about the muffled sound of resonant temple bells in the distance and the serene presence of monks in plum-colored robes dedicated to the Dharma. In that instance, I felt an immediate sense of harmony.
I quickly became aware of the depth I often lack to my way of thinking – am I truly the sum of all my thoughts? How sad. Just a couple of hours ago, I drove furiously down El Toro Blvd just so I could pick a number to stand in line at the post office. Mindless. Subconscious. Cyclical.
But quite glaringly, here at the monastery on the hill, with the scent of sandalwood-infused incense wafting throughout the grounds, I have entered a new world of reality.
Solitude. Lightness.
My habitual, every day flow of thoughts & my subsequent emotional reactions to them dissolve into the fading sunset & beyond the surrounding Chaparral hillsides of Escondido. Suddenly, each footstep, every breathe, the momentary pause becomes purposeful & deliberate.
Atop the hill stood the most majestic meditation hall, fittingly called “The Ocean of Peace.†We blessed the earth by meditating on the ground itself surrounded by rabbits, red fire ants, blossoming Oak trees, and the orange-hued sky. Such natural tranquility can only exist up here.
There was a deafening sense of quietness all around – I felt untouchable.
But as I sat there, motionless against the darkening sky, the moon gave way to a flood of intrusive emotions that I wasn’t prepared for. Stillness will do that. I had nowhere left to go – no cell phone to answer, no email to respond, and no one to care for, except my own self. All I had to do was sit.
There is so much buried deep within the mind. And the subsequent pain, of course, is a result of clinging to them. I know better, but I can’t do better. It is frustrating, yet I sit there, quiet, pensive, breathing still. In that instance, I feel a deep need to scream welling inside of me – if I could just release it. I sit still – feeling my aloneness, such desperation, and such groundlessness. All I knew, right then & there, was that I couldn’t give rise to anger. But the sadness is palpable.
I feel my breath. I cannot explain the pure joy of the simple awareness of my in-breath and out-breath. Such lightness. All will be okay.
The moments pass, as they always do & it gives rise to different feelings and thoughts. Nothing ever stays the same, does it? Everything arises; everything falls way, says Ajahn Chah.
Time passes quietly by and we meditate some more, chanting and reciting with the Sangha; walking ever so gently throughout the monastery’s beautiful orchards; savoring our tea with renewed joy; sharing our organic meals imbued by noble silence; and allowing each & every sounding bell to recapture that inward peace – a return to our home, where it all resides.
As Sunday afternoon approaches, I am feeling unsettled about leaving these sacred grounds. How do I allow this serenity to last? How do I carry this calm to the tumult back home? But I startlingly realize the enemy doesn’t reside in Orange County, it lies within. There is no external passageway other than allowing the Path to arise within me.
And so I begin again.
In November, I plan to trek up that silent hill once again. You should join me.
