There's this moment that I keep coming back to. It's slippery; hard to put my finger on the feeling of it; comes more as a sound. It's a sharp, crashing noise that arrives at just the same time that I understand its nature. The crashing sound is my face hitting the stone floor and suddenly I'm lying in the bathroom where just a split second ago I was standing, about to go back to bed because it's not yet 3am and I've had a fever but now I'm feeling better.
Except I'm not feeling better anymore. I'm confused and my face hurts where I bit my lip and banged my eye on the way down. But I have plenty of power to leap onto my feet and wake R just in time for him to see me falling again on the hard stone, this time landing on my head.
This was the dramatic, vertiginous culmination of a mild viral infection I had on my first week in India and I share it because:
1) It explains why there were no Madrugada posts on Wednesday or Friday this week (I was 'in recovery')
and
2) It's quite fascinating.
The witness, the one who stands back and observes you fall is the same witness noticing your thoughts arise and fall away again when you meditate or sit in silence. This witness travels with you always, knows all things, but unless you practice, you might never feel her/his presence.
Don't expect the witness to step in and save you. It never will. But it's well worth checking in on from time to time, because it knows everything about you. If you're wondering why you behave in certain patterns or find yourself in familiar spirals, look no further.
I recovered well from my falls and have been scrambling over rocks, swimming in the sea, and eating south Indian delights to my heart's content. I've got a fat lip that gets just a little bit thinner each time I wake up, and a beautiful bruise over one eyelid.
And the witness that notices these things is the very same one that was with me when I fell. As I get older, I find myself seeking more and more moments of quiet, more and more lone moments. I'm making contact with the part of me that is aware. It doesn't always mean I act with delicacy or grace, but it does enable me to see those points where I should have just slowed down. Retrospect is wonderful.
What has your witness witnessed today. Are you aware of its teachings?
I wish you a beautiful, drama-free week, dear friends.
I'm sorry to hear you've been unwell and hurt yourself! Rest and recuperate well.