the nerve
of Donald Trump showing up in MY meditation.
A few nights ago, the craziest thing happened.
A teacher led us through a meditation, and well, honestly, I have been led through a million meditations, so my expectations for this particular meditation, were lukewarm, at best.
With the help of the teacher’s melodic cadence (and my indifferent willingness), I was led back in time.
To my 6 or 7 year old self. To the brown skinned monkey with scraped knees and unbrushed hair down to her behind. The sweet bean who loved sparkly bike tassels, pudding pops, and skinny dipping in our pool after dark. She was liberated.
Compassion from big me washed over little me.
Next, the teacher meditated us right up to God. I’m not kidding - above ourselves, out of our homes, and she kept saying, “UP, UP, UP - until there is bright white light and you feel surrounded and held by unconditional love.”
She instructed, “If you don’t feel that, go UP, UP, UP even higher.”
Well, I was flying up real high with God and everything, when I asked the White Light God for a message. You know what She said? She said,
“I am precious. I am the presence of Her. There is no separation from Her, EVER.”
Now I was really believing. I was full on IN. Give me the SUPER SIZED Immersion Experience with God, please.
When we reconvened from our Heavenly visit as a group, the teacher asked if anyone was willing to share their experience.
Three courageous women raised their hands, each taking turns explaining the tender, wise, and deep wells of what had transpired during their all inclusive God vacation.
That made me feel brave, so I raised my hand.
After I explained my UP-UP-UP “drug trip with God without doing drugs”, the teacher asked,
“Michelle, is there anyone that you don’t like?”
Donald Trump flashed red through my heart.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Can you visualize Donald Trump?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered again. My fists began to clench.
“What do you feel when you see him?” she asked.
“RAGE.”
My shoulders tightened, a pit beginning to form in my stomach.
“Anything else?” she gently probed.
“Despair.”
A chasm of heaviness began to take up residence in my body.
“I am going to ask you to place Donald Trump in front of you,” she said.
My eyes begin to twitch.
What kind of fuckery is this?
You want me to WHAT?!
She said, “Hold hands with your rage and despair. The three of you are holding hands, do you see that?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Donald Trump is in the middle of your circle. Do you see that?”
“Yes,” I answered begrudgingly.
Without warning, the heaviness began to dissipate. My urge to fight turned to violet colored translucent vapor.
She paused…“What do you feel now?” the teacher asked.
The answer even surprised me.
“Love.”
As soon as the word exited my mouth, I threw up my hands in a stance of equal parts win and defeat. A shrug that said, “Are you kidding me?”
And that is when it hit me: when I remember I have a direct hit of the UP-UP-UP God LOVE, I pour out infinitely. Apparently, enough even for Donny boy. Pam Bondi, you are not on deck.
48 hours later, do I feel love for our President?
Not a chance.
Do I understand that LOVE will ALWAYS prevail?
Yes.
So I guess I don’t really have any answers.
Just more questions than before.
But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.
It just means I am OPEN.
If you’re feeling a lot of stuff at the same time, me too.
I have never felt love for him (or them) and I don't even want to. BUT, I have had passing moments of compassion. I know people that hateful are miserable. I can see it. They have a child inside them, too, a bottomless pit of need. But they're hurting so many people, it fries any goodwill I can muster. And I think that's ok, too.