Devotion to Self

What to expect

This one gives what you carry somewhere to go: you settle, open the space above you, and then, a handful at a time, offer up what the body is holding. What is left, under it all, was there all along, and you let it rise and spread, to this moment, to everything, and to someone dear to you. Then a long rest. It pairs with The Thirteenth Point, which sets down what you carry, one thing at a time.

How to listen:

• Sitting or lying down, with your eyes closed once it asks. Never while driving.
• No headphones needed, and the quiet is part of it.
• There is nothing to find: whatever is here, felt or not, is enough.

About

Why “Devotion to Self.” The Sri Atma Gita, a verse rendering of Krishna’s last teaching that the Temple of the Universe reads aloud, says that God is your Self, and that devotional love is a way to God. Put the two together and devotion to God is devotion to the Self. The meditation never says so: it offers, and lets what is left be love, if it feels like love.

Safety and aftercare. You can stop at any point: open your eyes, feel your weight where it rests, and let the room come back. If something you offer up brings more than you want to meet today, leave it where it is. That isn’t failing. Give yourself a minute before you stand, and longer before you drive.

Credits. Offering up what the body holds, a handful at a time, is Ram Dass’s teaching as Michael Singer passes it on in his talks, and that what is left was always there, freed and not found, is Singer’s own, from his Sounds True conversation Love Is Not Found, It Is Unblocked. Devotion to the Self is the Sri Atma Gita’s. The music is crystal singing bowls over felt piano, a soft cello and a warm pad, in three movements.

Written by Lee and Lucas + Twins. Voice: Jenna.

Transcript

Opening

Most of us carry more than we notice.

Not in our hands, but in the shoulders, the chest, the breath.

We carry it so long that we stop feeling the weight.

For a little while, some of it can be set down.

There’s no hurry to begin.

Start with what you’re resting on.

Sit or lie down, supported.

Rest your arms and legs.

Let your weight settle.

Allow your eyes to close.

Breathe in slowly, and then out.

Take one more slow breath.

Then leave the breath to itself.

Part One: The Space Above

Notice the space above you.

The height of the room.

Beyond the ceiling, open space.

Space with no top to it.

Enough space for anything at all.

Feel the openness above you.

Part Two: Setting Down

Set down whatever the day holds.

Loosen any hurry.

Put aside any striving.

Drop the wish to get somewhere.

Ease off any guarding.

Let what’s beneath you hold you.

Part Three: A Handful at a Time

Bring attention into the body now.

Notice any heaviness there.

Any tightness, anywhere.

A place held tight.

Even numbness, or nothing much.

Nothing there needs naming or fixing.

In attention alone, take a handful of what’s there.

Offer it up, and let the space have it.

Then another handful.

A handful from anywhere.

Another, from underneath that.

Continue, a handful at a time.

Part Four: What Needs Nothing

Let the offering go quiet.

Notice what is left, under it all.

Whatever is here, felt or not.

Like a spring beneath stones, it was always there.

Let it rise into this moment.

And spread to everything, near and far.

Even to someone dear to you, brought to mind.

Whoever comes to mind is enough.

It asks nothing back.

Part Five: Resting

Nothing more is asked now.

Rest in what is left.

If it feels like love, let it be love.

Here, as it always was.

Part Six: Back to the Room

Let the breath deepen a little.

Feel your weight where it rests.

Your hands, wherever they lie.

Move a little, however feels good.

Notice the room around you.

Allow your eyes to open.

Let the room’s light in.