To sit on my cushion and meditate is nothing less than transformative. I become aware what it feels like to be present, to show up, to exist. The awareness begins with a feeling of intimacy with the fading sounds of my bell. It morphs into intimacy with the reverberations of the bell traveling in my body.
The attention often changes into a focused awareness of the rising and falling of my breathing core. My arms, my legs, my head all quickly get the message. This is the time for all of me to feel present.
The attention I feel is not in my head but in my whole body. My awareness is not a passive acceptance, but an active reaching out into an immense void. My awareness is not receptive alone. It is more like a search light that shines out and brings back to me all that surrounds me. I embrace and I am embraced.
This feeling of being intensely aware can be regenerated frequently throughout my day. I just have to remember to be aware. It is not a struggle to make it rise to the surface of my experience. It is difficult to remember to flip the switch, turn on the attention, become aware.
It takes me less than five seconds to become aware, once I choose to be present. Then my feeling of awareness and intimacy can embrace just about anything. It could be the rug under my feet as I walk across the living room, the person sitting before me, the food I am putting in my mouth. It has become relatively easy to be aware, to show up, to be present. I just have to remember to do it.
Awareness for me has become a chosen activity. It is not something that simply happens to me. It helps for me to be in a receptive posture, but awareness is something I do. It is a paradoxical relaxed alertness.
For me, “aware” is not an adjective, it is an active verb. I aware.