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The moment when pain becomes meditation, a record of true healing that begins with suffering.
Category
- Meditation
Author
- Lumen
The autumn breeze, the sunlight, and my throbbing body. In this void where I felt nothing, these were the only three things I could hold onto. The light I'd imagined didn't appear, and no meaningful coincidences occurred. Yet, this very "nothingness" became the beginning of my meditation. Meditation didn't begin without something. Indeed, only in this place of nothingness could I finally face myself.
My body was still sending signals. The pain, heaviness, and throbbing were uncomfortable, but at the same time, they were proof that I was alive. I leaned into it and quietly chanted the Five Precepts of Reiki. I watched my breath, creating space between my inhales and exhales. That space felt like the emptiness left after passing through a tunnel of despair, but also like an exit from which I could begin again.
The tunnel of despair felt endless. The moment I believed I was out, another tunnel opened up. I hoped for a ray of light, but the end was nowhere in sight. Yet, I continued on my path, praying: I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. These prayers, little by little, loosened the bonds that had bound me. They were words addressed to someone, and at the same time, to myself.
The things that happen to me may be mere coincidences. But I believe those coincidences are connected to my karma. By believing this, I embraced coincidences as a part of my life. The tangled threads, like the wounds in my heart, sometimes tightened and entangled me. But I quietly sent light into those threads. I touched them, not through imagination, but as if breathing the warmth of my palms. When I whispered, "I'm sorry," the threads began to unravel, little by little.
The thread didn't resist. Without pulling or forcing it, the knot slowly but surely loosened. At that moment, I realized that meditation doesn't have to be a grand awakening or a mystical experience. Simply by feeling my body, observing my breath, and stroking the thread within me, meditation began.
The autumn breeze still brushed past me, and the sunlight embraced my back like a warm hand. The throbbing pain in my body was both pain and a guide. They were all proof that I was meditating here. Even without the imaginary light, even without the mysterious signs, I was already in meditation. The moment I realized that, a breath of relief washed over me, even on the seemingly endless road.
