Intruder on Morning Meditation


Six o’clock. In the black of eyes closed, pre-dawn meditation I notice a Chinese character. CGI perfect, orange, with no flourish in the font. No movement, no sparkle. It morphs slightly—larger and more complex now. If the first one meant ‘house’, maybe this version is ‘country house’. I wonder, is this is an aura? No, there’s no twinkle, no shimmer. Morphs again—now a maze of pathways. Again—now taking up a quarter of my dark lids with convolutions, twists and turns. Movement, shimmer—I knew it. Mr. Migraine has arisen. I didn’t know he was Chinese.


Feeling Bad—the concept struck me as odd yesterday (a migraine day). An unfortunate external event is one thing, but feeling bad over it is our own act. We whip our minds in an endless frenzy of directionally unique judgments. There is a reason the enlightened ones suggest staying present and accepting without judgement. 


This dis-ease which we feel from time to time (most of the time for some of us) is a fraudulent manufacture of our minds—an evolutionary mechanism gone rouge and for some, the neurological pathways are well-traveled—out of habit. Let go and be in the present moment—without judgment.