The House With Many Rooms.

Dear Journal,

You will never guess what happened to me today, or maybe you already know and had a hand to play in my fate. I have been writing to you for a while about going to that café on the corner of Stonehouse Street. Yes, the one that has that amazing cacao, the proper stuff from Peru. Well today they were offering a free meditation class with every cup purchased. So, I went inside and ordered a vegan chocolate biscuit to go alongside (of course this was necessary). There was a circle of participants, some were chanting (this spooked me out initially) and then I joined in (the monotony was rather soothing).

I had to shift from the meditation cushion as sitting crossed legged was uncomfortable. I lay down on a soft blanket and gazed up at the shimmering lights and coloured drapes. I am not sure whether it was the chimes of the gong or the incense burning or the soothing voice of the meditation teacher, but after a few moments I was fast asleep. Then it gets weird. You know that however hard I try, I am just unable to remember my dreams (I am still waiting for that refund from the vivid dreaming session). I sort of floated out of myself. I saw my body from above which was lying in the meditation circle (it turns out I am one of those annoying people who snores). I drifted up to the ceiling and entered a place where there was a veil of both shadow and light. Upstairs there was another room and a door, which I opened and it led out to a garden and a house (what exactly was in that cacao drink?).

The house was large and looked ordinary from the distance. Then I noticed a queue for miles that extended to a tent near the entrance. I was curious and asked what everyone was waiting for. Some ignored me and others let me know in a hushed voice that they were waiting to get into “The house with many rooms”. I got in line and took out my pen and notebook (yes, I took some notes). To the annoyance of the waiting others, a pleasant looking monk came to greet me and guided me to another tent at the side of the house. He handed me a badge (it had my photo on it which freaked me out), key fob and a clip board (with instructions and a consent form). He said how they had been waiting for me for a while and were glad that I had finally arrived (they must have got me confused with someone else, maybe the meditation teacher?).

The leaders asked if I would participate in a meditation experiment. The form explained that I would go into a series of rooms (course undetermined and duration unknown) and following each room I would need to connect my fob and the room would record my internal experience. They gave me a copy to take away. I will include it in my entry for today (I hope you do not mind becoming scrapbook). I signed the consent form, and the monk happily took it (yes, I sort of read the terms and conditions).

The Breath meditation

I entered a corridor which had many doors on either side. The first room I entered was familiar enough. It was a breathing meditation led by a cloud (yes, a cloud). The wisps of cloud expanded and guided me to breathe out and then they collapsed towards the centre, and I followed this with an in breath (you get the gist). This went on for some time and my mind did wonder (I was hungry, and I forgot to ask the monk about food options). I placed the key fob in a machine as I left the room and a transcript of my internal experience came out. I briefly looked at it and then attached it to my clip board as instructed.

The breath is a wonder, it is what gives life. The calming power of the breath washes over me like the tide. My work unrelenting, the pressure, the stress. In the middle of the madness, I pause and take a deep breath. It soothes and brings completion to my utter distress. This breath uniquely mine, it is my constant companion and my greatest friend. Connecting to my breath allows me to unwind, it encourages me to draw on its message and meaning for my life. It soothes my soul and is an anchor for the moment.

The room of laughter.

I was offered a balloon and asked to blow it up. I then start floating and laughing uncontrollably. This room was quite fun until my belly hurt from all the laughter.

It started with a brief pause before the moment of reaction. I can recognise where that irritation has come from my own unease. I find a place where I can speak kindly to myself. Something comes alive within me. I feel my feelings. Joy bubbles up to the surface of my being.

The woman counting.

There is a woman in the middle of a room counting coins. When she is finished, she starts counting all over again.

Empty.

Hollow.

Free.

The room of loud clangs and noises

This room was way too noisy. I could not cope with it. I could not belief that people waited years (yes some waited as long as that) to go in there. If I wanted to hear traffic, sirens and machine work I would live on the busiest road in the city. Ps. I told them to make the box with ear defenders more visible, I completely missed it.

Oh, will this pain ever be over?

Is my soul really injured?

I do not want to go back.

I am much better off away from that place.

This feels never ending.

Walking meditation

I entered a dark forest with lanterns along a path. It was mesmerising to see fireflies in the air. The owls were hooting and there was singing in the background. In the distance I could see a campfire and I ambled along (I was hoping for some toasted marshmallows and a cup of cocoa).

Walking in nature is a way for me to relax, the sights and sounds calm connections deep within my nerves. As I travel through nature, and the beauty of this world, something inside me comes alive and is reborn. I draw inspiration from the seasons of nature, and marvel at how it mirrors my life. The song of a bird speaks to my heart, in a way that only my heart can know and understand. Following the movements of the wind and watching the trees sway calms my spirit, and I am thankful for this day. A stream trickles and the flow soothes my mind, the light glistens off the water and it dances around.

Body meditation.

At the entrance there was a box of shoes and a sign saying "please take one" before walking across the glass checkerboard floor. I put a pair on (slightly too tight) and my feet at once magnetised to the ground. The floor beneath me moved and squares fell away. I felt like I was in a game show and frantically trying to get across to the other side where there was another door. My body felt heavy, and I was overcome with the weight of those boots. (Ps. I told them to get more shoe sizes and styles).

My body is my teacher, it stores all things. If only I can listen it will show me the healing within.

The room of mirrors.

The mirrors were not like the mirrors at the fun fair which I went to as a kid. The mirrors in the fun fair made you look distorted. Those mirrors did that, and they has words on them. Some of the words are nice and some are horrible. I preferred the mirrors without words. There was one moment where I looked super wide and then the next minute lanky and tall.

Do I love myself only if I look a certain way? Or can I truly accept myself with all my flaws. Am I not more than what I can see? Is it not enough that I am just breathing on this earth? I like others, battle negative feelings and beliefs about myself. It can be something significant or something small. When I speak to myself with kindness, my body feels loved. This is no minor thing and each moment I do this; it brings me back into peace and alignment.

The break.

Finally, there was a room with tea and biscuits. There were other participants also, and it was good to know that I am not in the mindfulness house alone. There was a girl with a “I love mindfulness t-shirt”, she was upset as she was told she will not be going through to the next level. There was a cute boy with a unicorn t-shirt, I tried to catch his eye. The hustle and bustle was briefly interrupted as the man who was taking notes had left his position in search of the internet. Apparently, people were annoyed with this as it was a popular room. I tried to blend in with the background. Even though I wanted more biscuits (and to chat to that cute boy) I left. I was surprised that the fob card even worked in the break room (those people seriously like collecting data).

Enjoying moments of simplicity and being with the collective energy provide me with the nourishment that I need.

The room of darkness.

As you know I not am religious but this room still reminded me of the saying that "in the beginning there was light". I wished there had been some light in all the darkness of that room. It was a bit eery in there. I thought something brushed against my leg. I wanted to get me out of there, and wondered where is the exit was? I then realised there was no exit and I panicked. In the distance there was a faint glow. I walked towards it. It turned out to be the doorknob glowing. I only needed a small amount of light to show me the direction to go. The shadows appeared enchanting once I knew where the exit was. My eyesight adjusted and I felt a sense of calm in that dark place.

Is the darkness in the depths of my soul a cry, a scream, a laugh, or a dance? Is it an avoidance, is it the not knowing, is it feeling stuck, is it that gaping hole?

Shadow and light, sun and moon, brightness, and darkness, one does not exist in the absence of the other. The two combine and unite. They are one and they are the same. The loss of my faith, it was sure, it was coming. I needed to let go and expand to the openness of life. I knew it needed to happen, and I was a willing participant. The course had served its purpose and I could no longer go along.

As I let go of all that I once held as true, I am greeted by a darkness about to swallow me whole. I lick my wounds and slowly allow wildness to come closer. In the darkness of my being, I discover unchartered territories and oceans to be explored. I begin to dance and revel in the beauty of the shadows. They teach me what it means to lose, seek, and find. The fury and fire elongate out into a shower of raindrops.

Shimmering silvers emerge from this place, and it glistens as it strokes against my skin. The darkness becomes gentle, it transformed from hurt into kindness.

So, I will continue to explore my various shades of darkness. They too will end in brightness, as I travel the expansion beyond. Who am I, if not this darkness within? It is a friend, a companion that has wisdom to share. My soul is born out of both this dark and light place.

The man with the notebook.

I finally found a man after my own heart. He asked me to tell him about myself. I said all sorts of things (I told him about you) and he was busy scribbling away and did not even take a moment to look up. He had a feather and a quill, and I asked him if he used this by choice. He did not seem to understand. I told him about how people think I am old fashioned because I still take notes with pen and paper. I have a phone, an iPad, and gadgets, I just prefer to write . He looked at me blankly. He had never heard of the internet (he must have so much time on his hands).

In whatever form your life takes, can you truly be attentive to your inner landscape? I have been listening to my inner voice, I have been taking time to be with myself and search deep within. My heart needs to be grounded to the earth. I receive strength and power through being in nature. Life is saying yes to me.

The room of light.

This room had bright light, it was almost blinding. This time I found the box with the sunglasses and put a pair on. It looked like a kaleidoscope of patterns in there. It is sensational.

I am led to a space where I can open. I am willing to listen, and this is where the miracles are. It is not something that is tangible. I am instead being guided to a fountain of everlasting water that exists in my mind.

The map.

This room was filled with red and green signs. The colours appeared to be changing. I was not sure, sometimes they looked black, red or white. They lit up when you looked at them. Anyway, the signs on the left were unhappy, critical, and negative. The signs on the right are much more positive. They contained a catalogue of all the thoughts I have ever experienced. I did not like it. I kept getting drawn to all the red lights. It was unnerving how those signs knew what I had been thinking about myself. Then all the happy thoughts just disappeared. Maybe it was that room and th0se lights. Then it became pitch black, and I could see no signs at all. I screamed "get me out of here". Ps. I told them to please get new lights, as I am not sure they are working.

Something you once found meaningful can become something you no longer feel connection with, and that is ok. Change is inevitable, and it is about flowing with these constantly changing environments that allows us to evolve into the most connected version of ourselves. The important thing is not necessarily what used to be, but about what is. It is about finding (or creating) the meaning in the here and the now, rather than dwelling on what was.

The beating heart.

In this room there was a throne and a table. Seated on the throne was beautiful woman and she was holding what seemed to be her own beating heart. Other beings occupied the seats at the table. There was a loud chatter and I took up a seat. I thought they might be bringing some food (they did not).

This feeling in my chest is unbearable. It is agonising. It is tearing me apart. Shame seethes inside my body. My mind reminds me of all the ways I have failed in life. I am riddled with guilt about how I have let myself and others down. A gentle voice inside reminds me that these things are not true. They are fragments from the depths of despair. This energy wants to be acknowledged and released. This pain feels unrelenting, never ending and the emotional turmoil is so far from the person I used to be. These feelings want a place at my table, to be welcomed and embraced, however ugly they are. With tears streaming down my face all I can do is hope that this too shall pass.

The chords.

This room was filled with chords. These were of different colours and thicknesses. Some chords were thick, and others were just a piece of thread. I was asked to cut a few chords and leave the rest.

I long for that connection within myself. Knowing that letting go and allowing is what I require the most. When I cannot find the key to that sacred place, I let go of all trying and allow it to settle as I wake. I seek that place within. I journey through the corridors of my mind, trying to find the door that belongs to my core. I feel the edginess lift off as I ground down, following the channels to the core of earth. I connect above to the dimensions unknown and swoop and fly into the foretold. I feel the push and the pull. The battle is raging, and I want to fight. The frustration, the resentment of not being in control. The feelings, the sensations, the agitation of my mind. I want to scream, I want to run, I want to hide. My body wriggles and squirms, it wants to be rid of it all. My being craves silence, and from it the message to come, it yearns for the rest and to lie down in the sun.

The school of life

I was in a classroom and there was a test in front of me. I did not understand the language. I instead drew a picture and hoped that it was enough to let me into the next room.

There are no levels or mastery or standards of competence, and in this “School of Life” there certainly are no certificates of completion. Resilience cannot be confused as something that needs to be achieved or maintained. The mind and psyche are much more complex than words expressed, and it has a rule book of its own that takes an individual a lifetime to decipher.

The train.

I was at a platform and a train arrived. I got on and it travelled through stunning scenery. There were many platforms and stops. The journey was slow. Sometimes we waited for what seemed like an eternity and then rushed past the next platform.

I sit in stillness and the throng of life speeds along in my mind. It is like a train derailed and driving off course. Each attempt to control, is a spanner in the works, and the journey is protracted, and I am no further along. It can take an age to stop, to be with myself and even then, the chatter is an aching groan. Sometimes being still can be a frightening place. I stop and stare and tip toe around, all the while avoiding that space. As I befriend the not knowing a new passage is unveiled, and I dance with the spirits of this new embrace.

The vacuum.

I entered a room and suckers attached themselves to me. There was a gentle pulling at my clothes and skin. It felt refreshing especially as the floor was hot.

The heat of the core, I draw from its source. There is wisdom, there is a fountain of knowledge, and truths waiting to be told. It is food and water for my mind and soul. An escape from the frenetic chaos of my mind. It is the cleaning out of my system, as a vacuum sucks out the debris.

The room with the typewriter.

I asked "Hello, is anyone there?" I was not sure what I was meant to write here. I thought "maybe I will start on my memoir or maybe I will write about this experience I am having in this white walled room". I thought the room could do with a bit of paint, maybe some blue, red, or green. Then I thought, maybe some plants would liven the place up a bit. I wanted to fill this space with furniture and lots of other things. I hoped that the white white walled room would not take offence. I was only making some suggestions of how I thought the room could improve. Ps. I left a message for them that the typewriter could do with an upgrade.

The essence, the being, the knowing, the seeing.

I was not ready then. I am ready now.

The gentle humming in the background.

The vibration so close to touch.

To be transformed.

It is now ready to birth.

The room.

The secret doors and passageways of my being are waiting to be explored.

Allowing.

Surrender.

Being.

Transfixed in time.

Singularity.

Polarity.

So dear journal, I now come to the end of this adventurous tale. I eventually came to the limit of the rooms that I was able to access. The leaders gave me some brief feedback that I was somewhat of an anomaly. My internal experience was quite different from my external processing. I mentioned some mindfulness apps which the leaders appeared intrigued about. They have invited me back to their house of mindfulness for another round. I am not sure how I got there or how I will get back. I hope to see the boy with the unicorn jumper again.

Yours as always,

The journal keeper.