My meditation practice at this time actually instilled some lucidity, and this clarity kept growing until I really could see with new eyes. The increased clarity was slow in developing, however, which enabled me to more easily absorb the changes that were occurring. Every day and every moment, I stayed true to my practice. What else could I do?
Then one evening, as I was contentedly concentrating, a strange thing happened. Happiness, bliss, confidence, and single-mindedness surrounded me. I suddenly could see that "striking the bell" and "maintaining the tone" were too close to thought, and therefore objectionable -- while happiness, bliss, confidence, and single-mindedness were satisfying and serene. It was as if my effort to meditate was interfering with this newfound peace.
Not long after this occurrence, and perhaps because of the intense sensitivity that was developing because of the illness; I became painfully aware of how frenzied the actual experience of happiness was. A hint of this cropped up in Pennsylvania, but the insight was stronger now, a new kind of awareness that wanted to dismiss happiness completely and leave only equanimity and bliss remaining. Now my practice really took a turn toward stillness as I basked in this equanimity and bliss watching everything without partiality. I was neither happy nor depressed, neither striving nor slack, and although bliss came up at times, I no longer felt necessarily attached to it. This stage felt very mature.
Then one evening, as I was contentedly concentrating, a strange thing happened. Happiness, bliss, confidence, and single-mindedness surrounded me. I suddenly could see that "striking the bell" and "maintaining the tone" were too close to thought, and therefore objectionable -- while happiness, bliss, confidence, and single-mindedness were satisfying and serene. It was as if my effort to meditate was interfering with this newfound peace.
Not long after this occurrence, and perhaps because of the intense sensitivity that was developing because of the illness; I became painfully aware of how frenzied the actual experience of happiness was. A hint of this cropped up in Pennsylvania, but the insight was stronger now, a new kind of awareness that wanted to dismiss happiness completely and leave only equanimity and bliss remaining. Now my practice really took a turn toward stillness as I basked in this equanimity and bliss watching everything without partiality. I was neither happy nor depressed, neither striving nor slack, and although bliss came up at times, I no longer felt necessarily attached to it. This stage felt very mature.
