Actionless Still Moments

[Guest guest]

Dear Eric,

I can't believe it!! Your stories are so similar to my own!

 

Yours took place with your best friend in NYC, mine took place

with my best friend (my brother) on a snowy mountain pass in the

Rockies. We hit a patch of ice and spun out completely with a steep

cliff on one side of us and the side of the mountain on the other.

The last things we saw were the white headlights of the traffic

behind us. The first thing we saw when we stopped spinning were the

red tail-lights of those same (?) cars. There was NO where we could

have gone.

The neat part of our story was that we were JUST talking about:

"Do you ever wonder if Dad is still with us, somehow?"

But to stay on the topic...there was this great calmness. I

remember telling my bro (who was driving), very plainly, "Take your

foot off the brake; take your hands off the wheel." I remember him

doing that and there was this peaceful sense of surrender, the way

you described it, like, "Well, here we are."

 

I have a bike story too. I was riding across the Golden Gate

Bridge and was so happy! I heard this high-pitched, "Hoooooooo" and

turned around to see what it was. The next thing I knew I was

looking "down" at the bike, in the sky! I must have flipped over the

concrete partition because I landed smack in the middle of the highway

and heard cars screeching to a halt.

The buddy I was with dropped his bike and came immediately to

collect his, what he must have thought, mangled friend. On the

contrary, though, I was laughing so hard...I didn't have a

scratch...I thought the whole thing was so funny, I could hardly ride

back. Yeah, the bike was as undamaged as I was.

If the thought came, "This is it," well, I didn't care. The joy

was so huge right before, during, and after the event. And even now,

in telling it! (Who says you have to be sitting with your eyes closed

to be in samadhi?

 

I can totally relate to the magical quality you described in the

experiences.

 

You wrote: "I hope we can all have as much stillness as we want

without having to run such adolescent risks as my stunts provoked."

 

Isn't it the greatest news that we can? Always Now. Ready for

the taking. Always! Isn't that the BEST???

And since I've got this long letter started and I'm still blown

away by our similar experiences, I wanted to mention a musical one

similar to yours.

I was the same age as you were under your father's piano, when my

dad took me to a football game. We were making our way through the

crowd underneath the huge concrete stadium seats when the marching

band came through. My dad put me up on his shoulders so I could see.

The hugeness of the bass drums reverberating under those bleachers

was beyond anything I could imagine. Each beat was permeating my

entire being. It kind of short-circuited my capacity to think or

understand anything and all there was, was this hugeness, beating its

rhythm, filling my whole body and consciousness.

I know you can relate. And like you, my passion for music since

that day has never ceased.

 

It is so amazing to share these stories with you (all). I have

never told anyone that last one.

 

Thank you, Eric, for sharing and for giving me the opportunity to

share as well. It is such a gift.

 

Love,

Kheyala