I just had a spiritual moment and it involved geese

I just came back from San Diego on Monday evening, and I have spent the remainder of the week very sad, for reasons I don’t really want to tell the Internet. Suffice to say that I went down there to visit some friends and family, chill on the beach, eat some carne asada fries sin carne (that took some explaining at the taco stand), get my heart broken, and fly out. All went just swimmingly, as planned.

Luckily for my job, when I’m sad, or heart-broken or melancholy for whatever reason, I tend to throw myself into my work—it’s distracting, and helps me keep perspective. This week was no exception, and with an impending move and a never ending to do list, there is plenty to lose myself in.

In an effort to keep some balance and mental stability, I’ve been doing more yoga. Today at 5:00 I rushed to finish up the project I was working on so I could get home in time for class. I usually throw my gym bag in the car and go straight from work, but I’ve been out of whack this week, and forgot.

By the time I got there the class was just starting; I found a spot right behind the teacher, and jumped in for some sun salutations. It was a hot day, and I haven’t practiced so vigorously in a while; although I kept up, it was a struggle. I’m working on focusing on my breath and digging deeper into the meditative aspect of yoga. Today it worked, and the result was incredibly bizarre.

When I was in San Diego, I visited my aunt and uncle. My aunt has been exploring Buddhism recently, and she showed me her meditation room. We discussed the difficulties of clearing your mind, and she recommended her technique to me. When you’re trying to meditate and your mind starts to wander, you simply identify to yourself that you are thinking, and tell yourself, “that’s a thought”. Then you can put it away.

By the time we reached shabasana (the corpse pose, in which you lay still and meditate at the end of your practice), I was exhausted, and thrilled to lay flat on the ground. My head was still spinning with the events of the weekend, the week and the day though, and random thoughts kept popping into my head.

I could put a plant in the corner of my office. I should go find a nice flower pot….Thought. Move it away.

I hope I still have time for yoga when school starts again…Thought. Move it away.

I don’t think I’m going to make the deadline for the article I was going to write…Thought. Move it away.

Albert…Thought. Move it away.

In my mind I picked up the thoughts and put them in a basket. It was full of fuzzy balls (presumably my thoughts) that look like these toys my cat likes to bathe. I tried to imagine myself in the moment, in the present, and this took the form of me floating through space in a lotus position. I was alone and bouncing along, a bit like that old school computer game where you bounce balls off of moving paddles and the wall, but a little slower.

As I floated in my mind, outside the gym a flock of geese suddenly flew by the window, honking. And in my mind, as I floated along in empty space, a flock of geese flew by too. Honking.

Now I very rarely reach a truly meditative state, even during shabasana. At best I can calm my mind down, but I rarely lose my self in it. Today’s meditation felt real, and the geese were very much a part of it. And it was funny.

In my mind, as I floated along in empty space, I started to laugh. Lying on the floor of the sports center classroom I had to force myself not to laugh out loud and ruin everyone else’s shabasana. But I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my otherwise still face.

Because even in my disconnect from the world, geese flying by a floating girl in lotus position is funny. But it went beyond a simple chuckle. Floating in my mind, I felt a deep upwelling of mirth. And it was the exact opposite of what I had been feeling for most of the week.

Which is not to say that all my problems have been dispelled and I have found inner peace, and it’s all good. Not even my yoga class is THAT good. But it helps to be reminded sometimes that it’s in there, that pool of mirth and joy that can be called upon so randomly.

By the most unexpected emissaries. Like a flock of geese.

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