Childlike (Samadhi)

 

 

There were times as a child when I felt blissfully at peace and one with the world.  Perhaps these times standout so stunningly, like sunlike sparkling from the tender ripples of a dark lake, because things weren’t always so peaceful.  Sometimes, they were downright terrifying.  But, at other time, when I felt safe and calm, I could lose myself in play and playfulness, the love of the adults surrounding and protecting me, the magic of nature. I long for this peace again and surprisingly am beginning to find it again in my aging, a return to a child’s simple way of being in the world. It comes, I believe, not through aging itself but as fear has abated, a grace of spiritual renewal and practice, this return to childlike awe, delight, curiosity, and surprise. 

As a child, in those moments of delight, I felt utterly safe.  The adults around me were calm and happy, not the usual anxiety and agitation where things might spin out into an uncontrolled violence. No matter where I was, in the backyard, down the block at a friend’s house, at the park across the street, I knew there was someone at home that I could return to after my adventure, grandmother and mother preparing a meal, father raking leaves, grandfather tending the garden.  These beloveds whom I depended on would take delight in my return, in me.  Without fear and worry, I could fling myself into imaginative playing alone or with friends, running until I was out of breath, rolling down the hill, building a tree fort by the river.  My mother would run a bubble bath for me when I arrived home, my father would read to my, my grandmother would pinch my cheeks. I drank up that belonging and affection, even as I dreamed of the next day’s adventures.

A particularly delightful event was the yearly girl scout camp out my mother organized for her troop.  I got to go along, my favorite fall weekend where I was let loose to play in the little stream running behind the cabin, watch for falling stars in the cool of the night, wake to the smells of pancakes grilling up over the fire.  The camp was only 20 minutes from my suburban home, but it seemed like the wilderness to me. I might just do anything in life with this much courage pouring into me.

To take delight in life just like this is my greatest happiness now. To feel fear and anxiety melting away through the gifts of practice and surrender, I can relax into play, dreaming, wonder.   I am with all the past years of myself, the five-year-old loving the picture books before she could read; the eight year climbing trees; the 10 year old swimming across the lake. Even my teenage self is here with me now hungering to learn, to dance, to bath in the erotic energy of the mountains. The beloveds are still waiting for me but now in the home of my heart.  My grandmother and grandfather each take a hand to welcome me over the threshold, my father is delighted to see me, my mother pouring love into my heart.

Perhaps, this is what samahdi is like, the effortless sweet play of the child in awe of the magic in the world, safe in the arms of the beloveds.