#32: Samadhi
Samadhi - also known as a ‘state of meditative consciousness’ is the theme of this month’s letter.
If you’ve had a chance to read the recent Issue #9 of TYL for Writers, you’ll know that I’ve just embarked on a spot of ‘higher’ education (I know, lucky me!), and while it’s not a direct comparative to this month’s concept, you could say that I’ve been absorbed - completely and truly - in the spirit of my studies.
So much so that I didn’t even realise it was October!
Heartfelt apologies.
Though, I guess, it serves as a reminder to us all that a human being (me) is writing these words, and not a computer!
Samadhi in Patanjali’s Eight-Fold Path… the highest point.
The crest.
The summit.
But, perhaps, who knows, it could be the real beginning?
In all seriousness, I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced Samadhi.
I’m not sure many of us have. (But that’s just my opinion. Who I am to judge?)
I say ‘not sure’ because, in yoga, the meaning of Samadhi (as far as I am humbly aware) is in relation to higher states of consciousness.
To, dare I say it: enlightenment.
An overused word? Yes. But it’s a huge word, a massive concept!
I often wonder: can we ever become ‘enlightened’, and still be merely human?
There may well be flashes of such insight.
In my own life, perhaps, there have been moments that I can only describe as ‘divinely-timed’.
By that, I mean something almost magical, something beyond my human comprehension, has occurred.
A happening far beyond the realms of what is thought possible by the usual frameworks of perception.
If this all sounds a bit lofty, a bit far-fetched, then perhaps it is supposed to.
It proves the point, right, when we lack the language - the words and the meaning - to clearly convey something?
Perhaps the challenging nature of attempting to articulate this is a way of paying respect to these higher modes of thinking, these high, angelic realms, reserved, mostly, for the likes of saints and other realised beings.
My essential understanding (from my own messy human viewpoint, influenced by what I have been taught and what I continue to learn, every single day) is that Samadhi is a sense of bliss. Felt deep inside the here and now.
Beyond thought or reason, merging with something that hints at the greatness, the wonder - the awe - of existing in this precise moment.
And yoga is, I think, only one such way of experiencing it. There may very well be others. I think there are others.
I think it could be Samadhi when I hold my children close and inhale them; when I write words that come from somewhere, lost inside my being; and when I see the kindness of strangers and the wonders of nature combining to make this world the most beautiful place I can think of to be.
How about you?
Please, use my feeble attempts at explaining all of this to consider your own interpretation - your own meaning - to this; to all of this wonderful stuff we call yoga.
With kindness,
Louisa x
P.S. In terms of other moments this week (in a world seemingly spinning in the wrong direction) where maybe - just maybe - I’ve blended with something that could be described as ‘realm-ly’, or as spirit, was when I listening to this track.
It is in this month’s playlist (below), but, please, put it on, really loud, and dance!
I travel alone,
Sometimes I′m east,
Sometimes I'm west,
No chains can ever bind me,
No remembered love
Can ever find me.
I travel alone,
Fair though the places
And faces I′ve known,
When the dream has ended
And passion has flown,
I travel alone.
The world is wide,
and when my day is done I shall at least have traveled free,
Led by this wanderlust that turns my eyes to far horizons.
Though time and tide won't wait for anyone,
There's one illusion left for me
And that′s the happiness I′ve known alone
I travel alone,
Sometimes I'm east,
Sometimes I′m west,
No chains can ever bind me,
No remembered love
Can ever find me.
I travel alone,
Fair though the places
And faces I've known,
When the dream has ended
And passion has flown,
I travel alone.
Free from love′s illusion
My heart is my own,
I travel all alone.”
By Franz Frenic
These are the lyrics to the song in the video. Not the poem above, although I like it just as much:
“Never had much to say
He traveled alone with no friends
Like a shadowy ghost
At dawn he came and he went
The child of a man
Who had soon gone away
Like a shadowy ghost
At dawn he came and he went
So the story is told
Of his true love 'cross the line
As strong as the oak
And as sweet as the vine”
Wow this is such an interesting letter Louisa, it gives me so much to think about. Thank you.