Park Walk in the Clouds

A tree branch snaps somewhere off to the right, and I register its descent, counting the seconds, anticipating the thud as it hits the ground. The sound barely echoes in this evening stillness, yielding quickly to the silence like a child told to hush. A single stone is disturbed and is sent tumbling, a few inches at most, yet I am certain about what happened as if I were watching its short-lived journey with my own eyes. It so happens that I am not watching it, because my eyes are closed, and have been for some distance now.

As we walk, I become more and more aware of the world around me, the world I would ordinarily only perceive by pattern recognition - tree, rock, yellow tractor. Deprived of my most overused sense, I am forced into the present moment by a combination of fear and curiosity. What if I walk into a tree? What if I step into bear droppings? What if I look somewhat different from the way normal people are supposed to look, different from all those people who don't walk through the park at sunset with their eyes closed… Gradually, curiosity takes over - Let me listen to the birds and … wait… what happened to the birds? The tranquility of this evening moment is disturbed only by a handful of distant bugs, making our footsteps and our thoughts the loudest events in the park.

It may seem that we are also subject to the decree of silence seemingly accepted by all living things here, but this is not the case. Our silence is premeditated, or perhaps - currently meditated. We are here to listen to the energy of the park, and to practice guided walking. Intellectually I know that I am not in any danger, for my hand is held firmly by my lovely companion who is not only excellent at avoiding bear droppings, but is managing to create an energetic space of acceptance and ease as we walk. I move inwards, and try an ancient Tibetan practice of cloud walking. I picture myself walking confidently right up to a cliff and then stepping off, onto the blue infinity, continuing to walk on that which is nothing. Although my goal is to feel weightless, all I manage to achieve today is a certain degree of lightness and ease. This is fine as well, there is no rush, and there are no deadlines.

A feeling of gratitude arises spontaneously in my heart, and we switch roles. No matter how many times I've experienced it, I've found being trusted to feel unusual. I am now balancing a feeling of responsibility with a sense of joy. I'm responsible for her safety, true, but I'd also like to return the favor, to provide her the best experience possible. I know intellectually that this is not in my control, so I try to drop responsibility in favor of pure love. It mostly works.

The road comes to an end, and so does this practice. A pair of green eyes offers me unquestionable love and understanding and a pair of my own reflections. There are two, on two levels at once - the images I see is just the surface. I realize now that she is not thinking, and that's the very state I'm after. In her perfect stillness she is reflecting my nature as a perfect mirror, and my own stream of thoughts begins to finally put on the brakes. This is like having real-time biofeedback that actually works. I understand now the poetic desire to jump into the pools of your lover's eyes, and I do this with my consciousness, joining with her and feeling a oneness that requires no words. I know that both of us are entirely content, and there is nowhere else to go. Not this moment.