A Meditation

My life is filled with activity. During the week I wake up before the sunrise. The pleasure of welcoming the light into the world each day only partially compensates for the weariness left in my body by too little sleep. I then drive to work where I remain for nine hours or so. In the early evening I return home. I exercise for an hour, make dinner, read or write, and then go to bed.

On the weekends I am trying to start a business. Recently telemarketers have called me on my cell phone to offer me small business products. This is a bittersweet sign. I resent the invasion of my time and my voicemail, but I believe this means my business license has been approved, as the process involves the public listing of my contact information.

Amidst this storm of activity, it is easy to lose sight of myself and my purpose. Therefore, every now and then I find it necessary to pause. I last did so a week and a half ago.

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I meditate. I let my consciousness dwindle down to a single point, focused solely on my breath. I forget my worries about the future and my embarrassments about the past. I let go.

I am. Simply. I exist only in the present moment. No more, no less.

In this moment of pause, this bardo, I become peace. I slowly widen my consciousness to embrace my surroundings with peace in my heart. My mind is filled with truth and light.

As my eyelids drift apart, I find myself in a small, chic coffee shop on Atlanta’s chic west side. Chic art hangs upon the chic brick walls of the converted warehouse (a chic thing to do). A man, who I have seen before, sits to my left staring at his laptop computer. I wonder what he is reading, and if he recognizes me. Behind me and to my right I hear the sound of two young ladies in a discussion about life, religion, and truth. I think they will fare well in this world; they know the right questions to ask. A few other patrons sit in front of computers, scattered around the seating area. I wonder what sort of persons they are. I wonder what they care about, if they have families, and what they are doing with their lives.

I cradle a warm mug of tea in both my hands. My eyes come to rest upon it. Slowly, I take a sip. I let the hot liquid sit on my tongue as I contemplate its flavors. With the beverage still in my mouth, my sight falls on the moistened bags of herbs from which the tea was produced. They sit upon a saucer on the arm of my chair.

Now that I have taken a sip, the herbs in those tea bags and I have become one. They are distinct from me, and I from them. I can see them sitting eight inches from my right arm. However, through the intermediate medium of hot water we have become interconnected in a real way. I have tasted of their essence.

My awareness lifs itself away from the tea, now coming to rest once again on my fellow patrons. We, too, are interconnected, like the tea bags and I. We do not have an connecting medium of water, but of air, light, and sounds. Through our senses we take the essence of others to be part of our experience and thus part of our lives, our very selves.

To them I am a young man sitting on the couch, meditating, reading, and drinking a cup of tea. To me, they are two young ladies pondering the meaning of the universe, men typing at their computers, and friends completing a homework assignment together. Each of us has touched the others’ world. We are interconnected in a very real way.

The whole of human society is a giant cup of tea from which we all drink. Each of us will become part of a countless number of people.

Earlier, I had been reading about the concept of interconnectedness in Thich Nhat Hanh's book "Anger". I did not understand his teaching and put the book down, puzzled. I only reached an understanding of interconnectedness when I experienced it directly. My meditation opened the way to insight.

With that, a spirit of peace came over me. That spirit would last for the rest of the night, eventually carrying me off into a gentle rest.