Rainbow Puddle

Life and family and holiday goodness has kept me busy. Time flies, not headline news, that—just another noticing. Somewhere in the middle of all that ordinary, full, busy life, I completed another OSHO meditation course, and amazing is an understatement. It cracked things open. Epiphanies, shedding, processing, crying, floating… and then there was the throbbing. Oh yes—the unmistakable throbbing of my own heart. I can feel it now as I write this. What landed most clearly is that I actually have made progress. A method. A kind of shortcut, earned only after putting in the time. 

I tell people—those who ask and plenty who don’t—that removing thoughts is impossible. If you weren’t thinking, you’d be dead. That’s my line. I’m sure I stole it. And it’s still true. But here’s the upgrade: after 1,000+ nearly consecutive days of meditation, plus a buffet of methods, teachers, apps, books, and random guides that have crossed my path, something has shifted. I can still my thoughts long enough to look around inside. Long enough to connect with my DMGS (Divine Magical Guidance System), or the subconscious, or Higher Power—call it whatever works for you.

The course itself was straightforward: Self-Hypnosis for Meditation. One hour a day for seven days, live on Zoom. Simple container, deceptively deep. I’m going to try to explain it—not because it’s tidy or linear, but because translating lived experience into language is kind of my jam. If nothing else, maybe this offers a different orientation. A Field Guide note from the inside.

The meditation begins with a body / chakra scan, moving slowly and deliberately, relaxing each area as if that part of the body were now… dead. Odd word, effective result. Breathing, of course. What struck me this time was how it felt, like turning down the volume on everything: the static, the noise, the movement at an almost atomic level. As if the whole system were melting, pooling, settling—like everything unnecessary draining off into a kind of inner puddle. Not gone. Just quieter. Clearer.

I began my practice years ago with body scan meditations. Nothing new was added; something old finally landed. And then it happened. It got so quiet inside that I could FEEL my heart in my chest—clearly, undeniably. I could sense the pulsing of blood, waves of energy moving outward from my heart through my entire body. I could actually hear and FEEL my own fucking heart. I don’t know, maybe most peeps can already feel that? Not sure, I did not conduct a survey. For me, it was new. And fabulous. A level of connection I hadn’t experienced before.

Early in the course, we were asked to create a short “suggestion” to offer ourselves at the end of the meditation—something simple, direct, and true. Mine arrived immediately: We are in alignment—confident, curious, and compassionate. Alignment being the operative word. The rest already feels like my nature, if a tad suppressed. What’s new is trusting the empty space—really trusting it—to hold everything. No forcing. No reaching. Just watching - looking. That quiet inner puddle turns out to be incredibly informative.

The connection is real, it's happening. I can feel it. It’s freaking me out and exciting the hell out of me, which feels like the correct ratio. Honestly, this may be all I want. It might be the secular version of wanting to know and do “God’s will,” if that language works for you. I also see clearly now that prayer and meditation are essentially the same thing—different doors, same room.

Here’s what clarified for me in a way that finally landed in my body: thoughts don’t create emotions—emotions generate thoughts. One feeling can spawn thousands of thoughts. That line stuck with me from a Dr. David Hawkins book (Letting Go) and now i understand it somatically. One flicker of resentment, fear, or longing can kick off a full-blown mental train wreck that runs for days without stopping at a single truth station. Emotions live in the body. When the body is charged, braced, or buzzing, the mind gets busy trying to explain, justify, protect, or escape. When the body actually calms—truly settles—the emotional static softens, and the thought factory loses its fuel. I didn’t learn how to stop thinking. All my efforts to release emotional energetic baggage and to calm the body continue to net clarity. And when the body calms, the thoughts thin out on their own. Observe - Honor - Release. Lather - Rinse - Repeat. Nothing new was added here either; perhaps practice generates a tipping point?

The poem paired with this piece came from one of those moments—the felt sense of everything melting and pooling into color and sensation, like the chakras dissolving into a rainbow puddle. At the time, that image wasn’t poetic; it was practical. It gave my system something it could understand without words. Wicked cool stuff, honestly. And maybe that’s the real lesson here—not how to control the ride, but how to accept and enjoy it, loops, drops, pauses and all. This Field Guide isn’t about fixing yourself or floating above the mess. It’s about learning how to stay present for the whole damn ride—aligned, curious, compassionate—and letting the puddles form where they may. 

Field Guide Rule #7:
Practice first. Clarity follows. Perfection is optional

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