The Practice of Quiet Communion
Withdrawing from the busy world, he claims twenty minutes as his own. He settles himself comfortably into his chair, closes his eyes and inhales a full volume of air.
As he exhales in a long, luxurious sigh, he feels all the tension leave his body. Again he breathes in deeply. Again, he exhales and feels every muscle in his body softening, as if he were weightless and floating on air.
After the third deep, relaxing breath, he lets his breathing find its own rhythm, watching it flow of its own accord.
He feels his body expand with every in-breath as the cool, fresh air enters him. “Wellness,” he whispers silently to himself, imagining he is breathing in a divine elixir that brings his mind and body perfect health.
As he watches his breath flow from him, he silently whispers, “Peace.” It is his offering to the world and he gives it with sincerity and love.
His mind grows as still as a woodland creek on a windless August afternoon. “Wellness,” he breathes; “Peace.” Thoughts come and go, like leaves floating on water. The mind will do what the mind will do. He notices them, but their sound is muffled and seems to come from far away.
Sometimes one will capture his interest and he’ll ride with it for awhile, captivated by its intricate designs. But then he will notice that he’s thinking, and gently let the thought go as he returns his attention to his breathing. “Wellness,” he breathes; “Peace.”
He doesn’t think about it, but he’s aware that he has entered another dimension of consciousness, a kind of quiet communion with the transcendent intelligence within and behind the manifest world. It’s nothing he could describe in words, but it feels wholly loving, wholly powerful, both intimate and immense. The peace of it is dynamic; its silence is the music of the spheres. He has no desire to understand or define it. He simply sinks into it and allows it to fill his being.
After twenty or so minutes have passed, his phone’s alarm softly vibrates. He takes a long, deep breath and begins to count slowly from one to five. “Returning now,” he tells himself as his count reaches three. “Feeling good, feeling great, feeling better than before.”
At the count of five, he opens his eyes. The room is clear and bright and has an aura of beauty about it. He stands, feeling awake, refreshed and at ease.
As he returns to his day, his stride has a renewed lift to it; his face wears a slight glow and an easy, peaceful smile. He’s centered, integrated, confident and ready. All in exchange for 20 minutes apart.
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