This morning, I chose a guided meditation called Saturday Pilgrimage. It was a visualization exercise for a pilgrimage to my chosen sacred place. The guide asked that I bring my attention to my higher self and imagine rising above my head to meet her. Hard as I tried, I just couldn’t bring my self to meet this higher self. Whoever or wherever she was. My thoughts and attention seemed stuck at my heart and wouldn’t move.
At the beginning of this meditation, I had hoped to “visit” Angkor Watt during this pilgrimage, a place I fell in love with in 2016. But, my heart just kept saying “there is no higher self, there is no sacred place, stay right here”.
After about 10 minutes of fighting with myself, the meditation mercifully came to an end. I was left with a realization that my higher self, whoever it is, is not above my head, but right here in my heart; not somewhere in the jungles of Cambodia, but right here in an apartment in Chicago.
Spirituality means different things to different people. I have been trying to figure out what it means to me for the longest time. Today, I may have gotten my first clue.
I fell in love with Angkor Watt, not because it was a sacred place, but because it is a testament to human achievement and nature’s beauty. Very much like Moss Canyon, Hoover Dam, The Bosphorous, and The Golden Gate Bridge. I find the same kind of love when I hang out with my grandchildren or see a pigeon on the street that purposefully walks over to get in front of me. It is the same love in Mary Oliver’s poetry and Monet’s paintings.
Maybe, my heart is right. Maybe, there is no higher self, only me. Maybe, I should stop looking for spirituality above me and just be content that my heart can find love in my very ordinary every day life.
