A body well attended to desires order and will happily give itself over to protocols that can effectively substitute for the vigilance aspect of consciousness: the sentinel of the mind that cannot let go until the basics of survival are looked after; until we know we are safe. We cannot let go or give ourselves over to the Mystery until the part of our mind that is constantly and chronically scanning for danger knows it can relax.
We have two primary methods for relaxing vigilance. The first is to feel internally safe enough regardless of our circumstances. Otherwise, we can create certain conditions that serve as an extension of this aspect of the mind. We can agree to follow a set of protocols, as protocols establish an external sense of containment. Through time, location, and repetition, we carve out a sense of space that, because it is reliable and predictable, allows the mind to relax and let go.
Our sense of trust now extends beyond the confines of our body and into this deliberate space. We feel held by it because we have carved it out by repeatedly returning to a specific location within a specific timeframe and following a set pattern. To return and adhere to the protocols we established again and again has nothing to do with duty but instead with developing a trust, a familiarity.
We carve something out of the invisible that becomes palpable—a sanctuary where we can take off the armor, the protection, the self consciousness that is constantly checking that we are okay, and instead devote that attention to discovery. Each time we adhere to the protocols and agreements we set, we fortify the sanctuary that much more, so we can let go that much more deeply. This is a safety built through trust, trust that we will return, that we will respect, that we will listen.
Our practice and the Mystery we contact within kindles our sense of fidelity. We come when we are called, tend to our experience with great care while we are inside of it, and leave when our time is up. The art of practice, though, aims to establish a sound economy within the mind.
The figuring, vacillating, wondering, and debating that our pre-practice mind occupies itself with are premium expenditures; they take up a great deal of energy that could otherwise be dedicated to our practice. Over time we learn to draw the energy down from the mind and into the body where we invest in venturing and exploring, sensing, and coming to know what we encounter.
First, we carve out a space that is wholly dedicated to the endeavor of OM. Our relationship with this space will be what sustains us as we build our world of practice. It will be the literal ground of our experience. We will relate to it as a good friend.
We place our physical bodies in this physical space and practice the art of developing trust with our environment through the attentive care we offer. We notice and tend to minute details in the space. This space becomes hallowed through our attention and, as a result, it comes alive.
It becomes some thing we do not merely enter but something we interact with. We are attentive to the elements that come together to create an atmosphere, and we allow our senses to guide us. The lighting, the scent, the sounds, the feel of it all come together in a symphonic way.
When carefully attended to, these sensory elements do what a practice space is meant to do: create an environment for the body to sink into simple, natural, congruent beauty. We include nothing opulent that overwhelms the senses, but also take care not to overlook anything that keeps the senses vigilant.
Next, we carve out the scaffolding of our sanctuary through time. The outer walls define when we practice, and the inner walls determine for how long. The body, deeply obedient by nature, will follow whatever path we offer it.
Setting a daily time for practice clears the way for us to move into and out of contact with the Mystery with greater ease. The fretting part of the mind can relax when it knows what to do and when. Time serves as something for the mind to organize around where it might otherwise fall into a state of entropy, an organizing factor that calls in all our resources at once.
Determining the amount of time we will practice relaxes the everyday mind. The mind can trust we will return from our foray with the Mystery to take care of our on-the-ground needs: rest, nutrition, hydration, the very things that make our foray possible. We are building a trust, a bridge between two complementary aspects: our relationship with the Mystery and our basic human self.
We shift the relationship between those two wherever they may be at odds; the protocols make it safe to move between both. They can each reap the mutual benefit of the other having what it needs to feel safe. Our internal tension rapidly deescalates when we acknowledge that the aspect that yearns for contact with the Mystery needs uninterrupted space and time, while the everyday self needs to know it will not be forgotten and will be respected. This is what setting time and following it can offer. Again, these are not hard-and-fast rules. Instead, they are ways to develop a relationship and trust so the whole of our being has what it needs to live in a state of fulfillment: freedom and security.
