As I sat in a meditation pose yesterday at the beginning of yoga class, I imagined I was sitting at the edge of a cliff, a big sky in front of me, lots of green mountains and a deep valley. In my vision, I peeked over the edge of the cliff and I got that strange vertigo feeling, you know the one where you look over the railing on the top of a building and you are afraid you might jump? I got that woozy feeling in my belly, as I looked over the cliff in my vision. What if I jump or fall?
And then a voice inside me said, “Just trust gravity.”
I sat there trying to understand that, and in my body I got it. I am here, I am sitting down, I am safe. Gravity is holding me here. There is no reason why I would ever jump or even fall. Gravity is my friend.
And then I saw the extent to which I live in a state of anxiety all the time. Whatever this metaphorical gravity is, I am not accustomed to trusting it.
There is a teaching in buddhism that I have always been enamored with and it says, “There is never anything wrong in the moment.” I love that teaching so much that I test it out on myself all the time. I stop whatever I’m doing, get really present and ask, “Is there anything wrong here?” And really, there never is. There is just a moment. Me and a moment.
And maybe that’s the gravity I am talking about. That inevitable pull back to the moment, back to the core of myself, back to what I know is true. Back to what is. Not my fear, but what is.
Back to the place where there is nothing wrong.