Hare's Journey: a guided meditation
There is a white rabbit that lives in the quiet forest of your mind. When the chaos settles, you can catch glimpses of her delicate white fur between sharp leaves in the brush. She locates a small opening between them, a darkness she finds comforting, and it swallows her whole. As your mind quiets, you follow her. A sharp tug inside your ancient body is curious to be swallowed too.
The path is pitch black, thick with silence, but your stomach is light with flight, tumbling and weightless. You do not know where it leads - and you do not care. The moment is enough.
Suddenly your body slows down, as if caught by a thickness in the air. You can smell the minerals of the earth - woody, pungent, damp - you breathe deeply, just as a seed sprouting new life would.
You catch a glimpse of the white rabbit once more, a quick movement across the darkness. Your body follows before the mind can decide. You are in a room that is filled with both warmth and wonder: tiny soil beds carved out from the hollow of the earth; each adorned with handsewn plaid curtains of blueberry and canary yellow, hung on golden rods enveloping every burrow. To the other side of the room, a small dining table made of a slab of young oak, and four chairs surrounding, carved from thick oak twigs with matching plaid upholstery.
The rabbit has already put on a pot of tea, she knows peppermint is your favorite. You pull out one of the chairs from the oak dining set. Your fingers brush over the seat cushion; it’s made of cotton but it's so worn it feels of velvet.
The oak is sturdy, so sturdy you could stand on it and it would not budge. And the strength of this oak chair, combined with the soft velvet of the cushion, provides a comfort you’ve almost forgotten. You notice the weight of your body as you sit, received without resistance. You sink into the chair like a small child, the rabbit still at the stove making tea.
She hops toward the table, white porcelain teacups in hand. The scent of peppermint reaches you as she does, soft and familiar. For a moment you both completely relax into the fullness of the oak chairs. Your body softens into the feeling of being held–by something that asks nothing of you–but you. You breathe in, and out, comforted by the warmth of the environment, the presence of the rabbit, the steady support of the oak chair, and you feel weightless once more.
After a little while, you can feel the soft fur of the rabbit’s paw on the back of your hand, gently nudging you out of stillness. You meet her gaze and realize it is time to leave. We are only visitors here, her eyes say, and you follow her back through the darkness, up the trunk of the old oak tree, boundless energy pulling you towards an opening in the sky.
The scent of the earth has dissipated, replaced with jasmine blossoms that float on the back of the wind. As you slowly stand upwards, the rabbit runs off far past the brush and you are alone once more. The quiet of the moment stays with you, even as the rabbit disappears.
With a body full of warmth, the birds begin to spread word of your presence. Your ears collect the notes. You breathe deeply, each slow breath matching the steady rhythm of the earth beneath you, holding you just as the oak chair did.
