Rosemary Nissen-Wade: Aussie poet and teacher of metaphysics – a personal view
My bestie nicknamed me SnakyPoet on her blog, and I liked it. (It began as
'the poet of the serpentine Northern Rivers' and became more and more abbreviated.)
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Saturday, March 19, 2011

Writer's Journal (exercise): No Talking

I tried it once, fior 12 hours. We were at a retreat. We had to keep verbal silence for the last part of the afternoon and on into evening, bedtime, wakingup in the morning, showering and dressing, breakfast, and reassembling for the first meditation session of the day. Even for so short a time, it was damn difficult. Everyone was very serious about it, however, moving about slowly with heads lowered, staying in their own space, as the head guru called it, trying not even to meet each other’s eyes.

I dare say it was supposed to throw one into one’s inner being, but it only made me more curious about the other people; more focused on them and what they might be thinking and how they were reacting, and what I could tell about that by watching them – surreptitiously of course. We were supposed to have said everything we needed to to the other people the day before, prior to beginning this exercise, so as to be complete with them and have nothing interfering in the energy of the group meditation. But I was bugged half the night by a thing I had refrained from saying. I rushed up to the person just before the morning meditation began, and whispered it hastily. She nodded gravely, accepting the communication, but the head guru’s husband shushed me and, frowning, gestured to move me on.

After the meditation, though, he and his wife pulled me aside during tea break to comment on the remarkable surge of energy they had (clairvoyantly) seen me project when they asked for healing to be sent out to the world. I was surprised. If you break the rules, can that still work?

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