A Meditation Practice

As I’ve said before, with regard to practices of mindfulness, such as meditation, I’m strictly an ordinary lay person, not much experienced. But these practices form an important motif for the plot of this novel, because of the importance of a healthy imagination in living with the psychopathologies of our democracy.

So I’ll think out loud briefly about a practice that I like: walking loving-kindness meditation.

Walking is good anyway. I especially enjoy the wooden path in a local park, along the shore of Lake Washington. As I pass things, trees, rocks, clouds, rain, people, their dogs, their bicycles, various birds and animals, benches, the pebbly beach, waves, boats, the breeze, sunlight, the houses of the wealthy on Mercer Island, the I-90 bridge, I wish them their very best.

Of course I wrote that strange (but true) list on purpose. We need to make practical, dualistic distinctions, such as organic/inorganic, born/made, living/dead. I smile differently at a person than at a rock. Usually. Maybe the same smile for the sunlight. But in my meditation, all of these are things of being, and no thing of being is more important than any other thing (and of course, if a thing becomes especially important, the meditation suspends—it’s only meditation).

I believe, too, that this practice is efficacious not only in strengthening our care of other persons and all things but also in growing a healthy, empathic imagination. With such imagination we are able to enter into, and sustain, the creative relationships that manifest the soul in all being(s).

[Readers who enjoy this page may well enjoy “Everyday Being in Practical Perspectives.“]