I went on a run last Saturday morning. I had my earphones in and was listening to a podcast like I typically do when I run, when something told me, “Turn left here.” So, I did. Then that same something said, “Stop running, and walk instead.” So, I slowed my legs and walked. And then I heard, “Press pause… take your earphones out… and be still.” I did just that.
At this point I was standing in a beautiful, forested park, amongst the trees, and that voice whispered, “Now, close your eyes.” In the instant that I closed my eyes I touched in on a peace that I so deeply needed. It was a knowing, an understanding, a comfort, an appreciation. I felt awash in a feeling that needed to be felt… this is the best way I can describe it. And then, that was it. I headed back home and went on with my day. That’s the story.
The clouds didn’t part. The meaning of life didn’t inscribe itself on the tree trunks surrounding me. It was just that fleeting moment, and ya know what? It was enough; it was perfect.
We’ve all had experiences like this, and no doubt, some much more magical and profound. But I think it’s important to acknowledge and mark the occasions when our listening to that thing, that inner voice, gut instinct, intuition, God, universal energy, mothership in the sky (author, Elizabeth Gilbert, says she spends much of her life just obeying commands from the mothership in the sky) — whatever you call it, and when following that voice, that call, leads us to a moment of Truth, an experience of connection. Because every practice of it, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant, uncovers and brings to the forefront our awareness of it, awakening our ever-present deep connection to it.
Some say that over time that voice grows louder. I don’t know if it actually grows louder. Maybe it does and I just haven’t been listening long enough, or maybe it’s that our listening becomes more astute, our ear more attuned to hearing it, and we become more practiced at picking it out from the rest of the noise, discerning it from all the other voices in our heads.
It makes me think of my son and his superpower-like siren hearing. This kid can hear a siren from all the way across town because he is always listening for one. He goes through life with one ear open, ready to hear the next emergency vehicle that pulls out of any station in the county.
I believe these experiences of listening, trusting, and following the call of that voice are cumulative. It’s probable that I will not remember that little experience I had on Saturday morning in 10 years or even 10 weeks from now, but I know that it has been imprinted upon me and that I will carry it with me, in some way, forever. These forgettable experiences accumulate, and together they gather and build strength to chip away at doubt and somehow (though in my experience it’s not in any linear, sensical, or tangible way) make meaning and bring us closer to Home/Self/Truth…
When I’m having a hard time hearing that voice and my head is swirling with a thousand others, I like to practice Bhramari Pranayama (bumble bee breath) to help silence the distractions and direct my attention to my essential Self, opening to it’s infinite wisdom. I begin by finding a comfortable and aligned seated position, closing my eyes, and settling into stillness there. I take a few moments to arrive and notice. I invite my breath to slow and deepen. Then, I bring my hands up toward my face, cover my eyes with my fingers, and gently press with my thumbs to close my ears. I inhale fully through my nose, and then hum with closed lips through the exhale. I repeat this 5 – 10 times.
Lately I’ve been thinking I sound like a fog horn when I do this exercise, and so I’ve adopted the imagery of being a lighthouse or a search boat, with my breath/voice as a light/sound combing through the fog. I encourage you to read more about the benefits of Bhramari Pranayama, and moreover experience it for yourself. I hope you find it helps you cut through the fog and open to deep listening, as well.
Krystal Barschig 