AUM SAINATH: CENTERING + AT-ONE-MENT

As you re-relishmeaningful moments, Nature unfolds, wonder-work for you. It can be self-triggered, anywhere you feel an "at-one-ment" with the self, and surroundings.

None, can provide a formal list of where to contact the self. Yet, some places help immeasurably, to contact with spirit. Impulse and the chanel to being-ness is arich source. That stirs the depths. What's pertinent will a-rise. A mystical experience where whats in the heart, pours, out.

The lower self once out of the way; you place yourelf full in the stream of a Greater Voice: "Be still," it exhorts. Nature points out the Way-Stations. And the Way takes hold of you, fully, irrevocably.That, self-chosen path, you must traverse. A Sanctum Sanctorum.

Out in nature beside a murmuring stream. Near bull-rush beds sit, quiet, to hear the rivulet sing. Watch tiny fish with scales mercury-tinged scales glint in gin-clear pools. Watch a kingfisher's persistent, dives. or, weaver-birds weave fluted tunnel-shaped, super-structures. Nature's lessons are eternal. Agreater full-time calss i cannot imagine. A Teacher more patient i know not of.

For, me, such centering and the resultant mind-ful-ness, could arrive anywhere.

My own response inside, is, the constant link. All, meaning is derived, here. My connection to the single sweet-spot, inside, remains an index to the unfurling magic around.

Out in the open breathing, slows, muscles uncleanch. Spirit emerges. Naturally, to roam, free. Like a desert Bedouin. My senses are not limited to five. They spread along the latitudes of my being, the escarpments of my mind like ganglia. They pass freely through me. As an eagle thermal-soaring through the ether.

In Nature-worship we need no conscious breath control. The mysterious breeze reveals the Way. Stress management courtesy, Mother Nature is like no other. Formal outer techniques, drop. Dissolve. The peel falls. Your core is revealed.

In The out-of-doors you imbibe "Yog" with the Wind. Breathe air that is fresher, cooler and theres an abundance of it.

Here one takes deep-felt breaths naturally, involuntarily, as the secret beats of ones heart. Time slows with each full in-take. Oxygen enters the lungs in full masure an into the blood-steram. Bringing renewed, super-vitality. You feel woven-in to a Greater scheme at work.In Nature you are reminded the landscape is set to a music. A rhythym, linked to a deep-centerd, silently-evolving, slow dance. The answers i searched, elswhere for slip through an azure sky, to appear of their own. When i drive a deserted stretch unfimiliar stretch of hypnotic highway during twilights magic hour, i slip, intuitively into alpha-waves, almost without being aware of it.

Those, long slow-timed brain-waves signal relaxation. There are a million self-operative alpha triggers. To attempt to list them is to miss the beauty. Select, the ones that touch you the most. The memory of smoky potatoes drawn from glowing embers. The taste of salted butter somewhere-out-there always remains. I curl content in fire-light's intimate glow. Cicadas sing me to sleep. Fresh-scented grass my sleeping-bag. The smell of earth my most fragrant memory.One of the simplest keys to the secret doorway is still a bit of solitude. A quiet spot you can call your own.Here, my mind takes-off. Sails like a hawk.Embrace, the ordinary. The fleeting little everyday moments. The boundless, awaits you, here. Re-discovery, your new-born child. Touch, yourself, here, and you will "see" life's myriad inter-woven conduits with countless all-new eyes.

Thus, you will not miss the cherubic chirrip-chirps of a sunbird, near-by. Or, the blue-black sheen on a raven-wing.Only, when you have held a leaf-blade in your hands: Examined all of it, the in-curling of a flower-petal, noted with mounting delight the notch along serrated leaf-tips, and its turning. Marked the the shpae of stigma, the fringe of stamen. Immersed, your being and breathed in that other-world, scent. Or, seen rapt bees pollinate anemones. Their pollen-laden feather weight too heavy, for the slender stems of daintly-clad flowers. Only, then do you begin, to know, more about yourself.I once saw a spider's-web in late afternoon sun. It's sparkling crystals like a diadem in the filament strands. Each, droplet reflects a shimmering iridescence in its miniature globe. I saw the surroundings, and myself, reflected jewel-bright in each planet-like supsended, drop. Im caught up in the warm web-work of Nature. The web-of-life, astounds.I once drove past a sea of orche-attired marigold, fields for as far as the eye saw. Stained maroon and gold.

The scent of marigold, remains. It comes in persistant, wave-crests. Lash, softly a palm-fringed shore-line somewhere in my mind.

That, i carry this marigold field, inside, being one part. It's atwo-way, communion.

My spirit-essence, hovers, lingers amidst those beckoning fields.A well-balanced, meaningful exchange. Such are my meditative, contemplations with Kudrat. Merely, re-opening myself to the sacred gifts around.

Cyrus Jehangir Sataravalla