As the end of the day drew to a close, I resisted getting into bed, as is the case for most nights. If I don’t go to bed, I don’t have to get up. Vicious circle though because I end up more tired. I don’t help myself do I.
Eventually, I couldn’t hold out any longer. I put on my pj’s, brushed my teeth and, I confess, didn’t bother with taking off my make-up. My skin will look hideous when I reach my 40s, I know. I took my migraine meds (uh huh, long term meds for migraines – they’re a God send I can tell you. Not had a migraine since starting on these babies which is something to be happy about, plus they have made me lose a shit load of weight…I choose to ignore the other side effects) and slid into bed. Almost instantly the tears start to fall.
I know I’ll wake up in the morning with tiny blue/black lash marks on my pillow.
Silent tears run down my cheeks and up my nose. I can’t manage huge, lung wracking sobs – my husband is inches away from me. Hands covering my face, I cry on my own, and curl into my own sadness. I know that crying will send me off to sleep in the end, but before that happens I try and think about meditating. I’ve never actually mastered the art of meditation. In fact, I always fall asleep before I manage to get any decent way into it – I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not?! I’m wondering if meditation might help me out of this low patch and back into the happy, humorous person I know I am, because, quite honestly, I’m sick of reading what I’m writing already. I’m already bored of me.
So, I reckon my meditation would go a little something like this:
I’m sat on a wooden chair, in a room with un-decorated walls, wooden floor boards, no furniture, no door, just a TV on a wooden crate in the corner of the room. The room is in the middle of a dense forest – I know this because the room has two gaps for windows on either side of the room. There’s no breeze, just still air.
The TV is on, but the screen is black.
I sit, watching the screen for a moment, surrounded by peace and nothingness, allowing my mind to still, soaking in the quiet my mind is craving. Then I’m drawn to the screen, like magnets are drawn to each other. Slowly, but ever so quietly, I make my way to the TV. I don’t make a single sound. It’s almost unnatural how noiseless it is in the room. It’s how I imagine being deaf to ‘sound’, if, indeed, deafness ‘sounds’ at all. As I move closer to the TV I begin to reach for it, my right arm extends out, fingertips almost touching the inky blackness of the screen, except when I expect to feel the cold, hardness of the glass, I don’t. Instead my fingers slip straight through, followed by my hand…
The screen is like molten lava without the heat, like silver mercury in a thermometer. I really should be taking my hand out of the TV but something tells me this is OK. At least, it doesn’t hurt anyway! So I put my arm in too, then my shoulder, and before I know it, I’m putting my head and face into the TV screen.
I’ve always been a sucker for bright colours – give me a rainbow and I’m a happy girl, but the sight that greats me when I bravely open my eyes astounds me.
Bright blue skies with wisps of marshmallow clouds was home to the biggest, shiniest sun glittering with tiny yellow diamonds. The field of lush green grass swaying in the breeze is scattered with daisys, bluebells and snowdrops, and far away there is a very large oak tree covered in white fairy lights and lanterns. There is a winding gravel pathway leading to the tree and by the tree there is a calm pool of water with toadstool seats round the edges. Along the pathway are more oak trees, seven on each side, one for each colour of the rainbow.
The outdoors smells wonderful; fresh; inviting: relaxing, so I step through the TV entirely and enter the new world.
As I begin to make my way down the path toward the oak tree I begin to feel lighter. As I pass the first of the oak trees I envisage my whole body turning red from head to toe and as I walk the colour flows from behind me like a cloak. I continue walking and feel lighter still. I reach the second of the oak trees, and envisage my whole body turning orange, again with the colour flowing behind me like a cloak only this time the red stays and orange becomes the secondary colour beneath the red. My breathing is becoming more relaxed, my walking pace is slowing and I am enjoying my surroundings. The sun’s diamond rays beat a delicious heat on my skin. I reach the third oak tree. I breathe in the yellow colour and my hair glows! It must be the blonde! I feel the yellow melt into the cloak that’s forming behind me, continually flowing, floating on air. Onwards I go, excited to see what the next oak tree will bring but happy to relish the delights of where I am right now. Oak tree number four brings green to the mix – I touch the tree as green isn’t an easy colour for me to like. I lay my hands on the bark and run the leaves beneath my palms, allowing the colour into my soul. Eventually it flows through my veins, though it takes its time, though that could be because my heart is beating slowly. The green joins its friends in the colourful cloak. I continue my joyful walk to the next oak tree and pick up the blue through my eyes. What a sight! Two wavy lines of royal blue ribbons heading straight for my iris’ and deep into the core of my very being. Stunning! It felt so soulful! I want to stay here forever! But indigo is next so u must press on. Blue takes its rightful position next to green on the cloak and my weary legs carry me to the indigo oak tree. Indigo knows I’m getting tired and swirls around me almost as soon as I arrive – up around my head lifting my hair high up in the air, it coats my shoulders, soothes my back and arms, caresses my legs and lays on the cloak next to blue. Violet, the last of the seven colours and probably my favourite. I reach the tree utterly exhausted. I lay down and violet emerges, comforts me like a velvet blanket, strokes my hair and face, fills my heart with love, sends me off to sleep for a while.
When I wake, the sun has gone and in its place is a moon that looks like it’s so soft you could use it as a pillow. Violet joined my cloak while I slept but instead of now being a cloak of colourful translucent air, it’s now a rainbow cloak of the softest of soft stuff you could ever come across! Soft is clearly my ‘thing’. When I begin to stand I see the oak trees are no longer there, but have been replaced with hundreds of flowers in each of their rainbow colours; red roses, carnations, poppies and more where the red oak tree was, orange gerberas and tulips where the orange oak tree used to be, sunflowers, Black-eyed Susan and daylily grow tall and sway gently in the nighttime breeze. Chrysanthemums, green cymbidium orchids and green gladiolus merge perfectly with blue hydrangea, delphinium and bell flowers, flow into indigo Baptisia Australis and Bare Root Roses. True to form and its colour, the violet oak tree left violet flowers in its place, thousands of them, with small heart shaped petals. The gravel path is nowhere to be seen.
The largest oak tree is suddenly much, much closer than I remembered it being from before my slumber, though still in its original position, still covered in fairy lights. The pool is inviting and I feel the urge to swim. I walk to the edge of the pool and, without taking off my clothes or my colourful cloak, I get into the water and find it to be pleasantly warm. I can touch the bottom of the pool with my feet, though I don’t know what it’s made of, and its a comfortable depth – the water reaches my neck meaning I can walk through the water or swim without feeling panicked as I do sometimes when I’m in water. As I swim round and round, enjoying the calmness and weightlessness the water brings. I notice the colours of my cloak fade as I become more and more relaxed. The water is taking on the colours, absorbing rather than washing away. The colours seem to provide a buoyancy to the water that wasn’t there before and I end up floating on the water without even having to try, with a now white cloak spread out underneath my body, encasing me in swathes of soft fabric.
My time in the pool naturally draws to an end. I climb out and as I leave I watch the moonlight glimmer over the colours left behind – a rainbow has formed perfectly on the surface and below it stretches to the bottom of the pool. It’s a sight I will probably never see again, much like most things I have witnessed today.
My final stop is this beautiful lit oak tree. I love fairy lights! Beautiful twinkly fairy lights! I feel cleansed, fresh, renewed and relaxed and the lights on the tree seem to signify new beginnings. I love the warm glow this wonderful tree gives off, and as I lay my hands on the bark, I can almost feel the tree breathing, almost feel a heart beat. I walk round the tree keeping my hands trailing, touching. I feel peaceful and at one with myself – in a place I haven’t been for a long time, if indeed I have ever been there before. As soon as this feeling arrives income across a small door in the trunk of the tree. Natural curiosity takes over. I open the door and step inside.
Gone is the world of colour, trees and flowers. I’m back in the room I left in the middle of the dense forest, except this time it’s warm, cosy, with windows and doors, a roaring log fire, a comfy sofa, shagpile rug, a mini library with my favourite books, a TV in the corner and a rack holding a selection of films, and hanging in the window is a little crystal rainbow, a yellow crystal sun and a crystal moon.
I’m at peace.