For circa a year now, I have been ruminating about the aspect of spirituality. Spirituality not in the form of structured religion, but in the shape of the psyches. See, not the slightest did I ever think I’d say this, but I need to find a way to center myself. Which now sounds a tad bourgeois, so this is the point where you skim off a few points off my already dismal street credentials. Yeah, but really, I’ve heard this unwavering yearning to be more in tune with my mind or soul. And subsequently – hopefully – more cognizant of my pursuit towards self-actualization, because that path has been murky at best so far.
Hitherto, my relationship with self-actualization and spirituality was just a dalliance, I was all but toying around with the idea. Poking the alien idea of spirituality with long poles, not ready for commitment. Sometimes I’d dive into some ‘click baity’ psychic article online and read it with the same interest you would when reading about something you’re disinterested in. Like, Hitler’s mustache, perchance? No interest. Suffice to say, it all came to naught. Then I’d toss the whole idea to the abyss of my consciousness until it came simmering again. An unrelenting loop of nothingness.
But then about a month ago I resolved to begin this journey in earnest. And like every spiritual nascent trying to find something that tickles their psyche fancy, I came across meditation. Look, now here’s a contingency. My African roots run deep. Over here, people don’t just soak in solitude doing nothing but perched in serenity listening to their floating thoughts, unless they’re praying or doing something that would be deemed untoward. So, I was – maybe I still am – skeptical about this whole meditating thing.
Plus, I had no point of reference, just a bunch of videos and articles online about meditation and its variations. Also, don’t you think spiritual people have some uncanny aura to them, no? Their Avant-Garde nose for fashion. Most of them are vegan (and meat is something I can’t relinquish), yeah? Their perpetual thoughtful countenance. Their pensive way of talking. And arguably disdain for us folk who just move through life on auto pilot.
But all in all. I decided to give this meditation thing a chance. And I chose the most rudimentary form of all; sitting in silence for a couple of minutes with nothing but your inner voice. You never really know how long three minutes is until you’re spending time with that little buddy, resigned to the peripheries of your conscious. It is like shooting breeze with a more empowered yet muffled version of yourself, and it’s peculiar to what your subconscious says when you actually take the time to listen.
Well, something in me shifted. I won’t sit here and set on a cock and bull spiel about the magic of meditation. But. There’s something about the silence that made me feel more aligned for the day. Nothing cataclysmic, just a slight yet perceptible sense of impetus for the day. Maybe it was just my mind conjuring my expectations but it was something.
I haven’t tried meditating again ever since. But I have been broaching the subject quite frequently, trying to find a spiritual illumination to steer me towards the free highway towards spirituality and self-actualization. But I’ll dip my foot anew into those hitherto uncharted waters again. No promises but sometime soon. And see where this whole pilgrimage takes us. Maybe I am chasing tail here. Maybe I am on an inconclusive labyrinthine. But do we ever really get to realize our essential selves and our whole dimensions fully? At least in the basic sense of whom we really are inside?
But please, when you see me turn down roasted meat. Or wear biblical sandals. Or spot a biblical beard (genetically unlikely). Do not judge me, in my defense, meditation does such things to a man.
Mizani 