Cosmic Traveling (Meditation Journal) 5: The Guardian

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Today is difficult.

I see a person in a long white cloth playing the harp. I look at him and then I hear a voice coming from another direction, saying:

"I can't help you if you don't ask"

I know that it's my guardian talking.

I try to understand what it means and to start a conversation with the owner of the voice, but soon I realize that my mind thinks. I am using a conscious, rational brain. I went out of the meditative state and I am attempting to reason instead of to observe.

I cut off images and words in my head and focus solely on breathing. 

Breath-in, breath-out, breath-in, breath-out

A thought pops up from time to time: "If you don't have a vision, you cannot write anything today" and it makes me feel a bit anxious. Not because I feel that I need to have a vision every day, but because I'm afraid my mind will trick me into thinking I'm having one, just to be able to write about it. I don't want my meditation to have an ulterior motive.

So all I do today is focusing on breathing. If thoughts are coming to my head, I observe them and don't act upon them. And then I just breathe. 

Breath-in, breath-out, breath-in, breath-out

By the end, for one moment, I see something. It must be a second or two, but I see it clearly. A hand of a little boy opens the front door from the inside of a house and then I can see the view through his own eyes.

Endless fields of corn. They spread and spread, joining harmoniously with the horizon.