Ineffable, spontaneous experiences...or are they?

It has been 309 days since I wrote my last post, or so WIX tells me! Having started work at a small private practice in addition to my full time job (Yeah I know, work life balance and all that...), it has been somewhat more difficult to find time to contribute to this blog and for that I do apologize. I thought I'd return to writing by trying to put into words a strange, unforgettable and what felt like a sublime experience here at the tip of Royston Head here in South Australia. After I returned from this hike, I ensured I wrote my experience as descriptively as possible before the transience of memory threatened to perpetuate its fading into the recesses of time. What follows is my typing of this original pen and paper note onto this electronic medium.

After a 2 hour hike through thick mallee scrub, then along an overwhelmingly stunning cliff face with endless views of deep blue ocean, I sat here (see the above picture) and meditated. I felt it natural then to recite and chant a Medicine Buddha mantra. Subsequently, I felt an unexpected and completely sudden upsurge of a very visceral and embodied sense of joy, which made my body contort into a laughter that carried a character of rejoicing in life, and in connection with all such life. This feeling started within the chest area and literally radiated to my abdomen and upward; I couldn't control it. Even though I was the only human being around for miles, I felt utterly connected, with a feeling that boundaries although necessary at times, were illusory. I almost teared up during these ineffable few moments. I could have stayed there forever, but then William Blake's poem 'Eternity' came to mind. I engaged in a prayer of gratitude, and moved on. However, as I left, I almost tripped over a bunch of rocks. When I looked closely, it was a shrine, dedicated to a young lady who died at the age of 29 years. I am guessing a suicide? She was young, and It was a very high and isolated place. So I dedicated another mantra and prayer at this site and then finally (the lure to linger in this complex emotional and image infused state was quite powerful) managed to moved on.

My dear friends and readers who are steeped in mindfulness and meditation practice, I wouldn't mind your thoughts. I have already received some feedback since this occurred in April 2018, and I will share these below along with my responses to them.

A wise psychologist friend of mine and fellow Buddhist wrote: "The trick here is to discriminate between being pulled by a wine and finding a wine that frees you so that you can amble. Every little wine, every day. Easier said than done. A worthy task for the discriminating mind. (P.S., Rumi's poem should be attributed to my wife, who just put it on the toilet door.)" My response to him was as follows: "The discriminatory awareness kicked in when I felt my desire to remain intoxicated, and then the line 'he who holds on to a joy, shall the winged life destroy..." from William Blake kicked in. I then chanced across the grave/shrine dedicated to the young lady, and all sorts of powerful emotions and images I can't be bothered writing about flooded back.

Looking at that shrine might be like looking at the stars and trying to image so many things you know you can't.

That was when faith replaced thought...a kind of secure felt knowledge and acceptance of the ineffability and flow of energy transitions that make up the (not 'our', 'the') universe. With a kind of bitter-sweetness to it too."

A friend who is a retired schoolteacher and Buddhist teacher said: ".... The power of really connecting to/ in the presence of beauty and grandness of nature. I’m having trouble even now!The fact that it’s difficult to articulate somehow throws us away from the conceptual and we become a bundle of energy or history or .... a combination of humbled...awed...remembering....primal... god knows what words! And then as you did...to be reminded of our mortality...bang.!!! Many poets like Rumi can express this much better than I." Again me: "We could have a bit of fun finding words and embarrassing Rumi. The swelling emotion did certainly have that feeling of my boundaries dissolving..or expanding...or something. I didn't conceptualise it in terms of time like you did in mentioning history...thank you! There was a certain 'primal-ness' to it, perhaps fostered by the sheer solitude and isolation as a 'human' on a big, ancient, eroded rock with none else for miles around?

That's all for now. I am completely open to furthering the discussion in the comments section below.