She Who is Like the Moisture from a Lotus Pond

 

I am in the middle of a meditation course.  My teacher lives in Fort Myers, Florida.  I live in Maine.  I Zoom with her and six other souls all looking for peace and serenity, every Thursday night.  I am learning Vishoka meditation.  The goal is to reach vishoka, absolute sorrowless joy.   Who doesn't want that?  Unlike focusing on the sensation of my breath at the tip of my nose or listening to the rhythmic sound of the rain pounding on the roof (awesome experience once at a Buddhist place), Vishoka is a more systematic type of meditation.  The goal of the process is to train my mind to unite with my breath so we practice specific ways of breathing and focusing.  In that way I am supposed to be able to turn inward, at the end of 10 weeks, to find that peaceful place of joy hiding behind my anxiety, my impatience, my fear.  Bring it.  As part of this course, my teacher offers at 6:30am Monday-Friday morning meet-up for those of who arise with the chickens and are fully caffeinated by then.  Often I leap out of bed, pee and gulp down a cup of decaf before sitting down upstairs on my pink yoga mat and joining the call.  After 30 minutes of meditation (more on my antsy 30 minutes in another post) she ends with a chant.  I used to think chants were silly until I understood that chanting, singing, humming all vibrate my vagus nerve which activates my parasympathetic nervous system and calms me the hell down.  Hence my singing and humming after every WhatsAPP call with my COVID positive husband who was on vacation 5,000 miles away while my dog looked at me in wonderment.  I jest.  But, when my meditation teacher first began to chant at the end of morning meet-up meditation, I laughed (we are on mute and no video while we meditate). I wondered what in the very hell she was saying.  And so I asked for the words so I could follow along and understand. In response to my request, I received a copy of the Sanskrit- English translation which is pretty much incomprehensible to me with words like suvarnarajatasrajam and abhutimasamrddhinca.  So I researched the meaning of her chant, called the Sri Sukta.  Turns out this chant is in praise of the Goddess Lakshmi.  I am not particularly religious but I like to think of myself as spiritual in the Mother Nature kind of way.  And, I am not sure it's for me to be praising an Indian Goddess but I figure how can it hurt?  I wonder and worry though, is this an example of cultural appropriation and not for me?  Gotta be mindful and careful these days.  In any event, Laksnmi is the goddess of wealth and prosperity.  Apparently if she likes how I praise her she will grace me with material and spiritual prosperity.  I laugh at the "material" piece in yoga but, hey, again, bring it.  If anything, the research on meditation is crystal clear.  Sitting for any period of quiet time and slowing down my breath will bring me health.  And maybe Lakshmi, who is like moisture from the lotus pond, according to the Sri Sukta, will lead me to that peaceful place peeking around my neuroses!  And make me rich.  But for now I will follow along as my meditation teacher chants away in a language that sounds like Greek to me.  Well, Sanskrit in this case.