Thanks, Lee: Days Two Hundred Sixty-Three - Two Hundred Sixty-Five

Unrelated (or is it?) synchronicity: There's a novel I've been working on for the past, say, fifteen years. I know. In my novel, the heroine's name is Lee.

Lucky for me, I was able to meet up with Lee yesterday. Lee (the non-fictional version) is my friend and supporter in all things meditation. This encompasses a lot.

The process Lee teaches works well for me since it is simple and flexible. By flexible, I mean there is no way to fail. As Lee likes to say, she has been doing this for forty years, but every time she sits down to meditate, it is a new beginning. The beginning, or as I like to call it pre-failure, is the place of perfection. As a writer, it is the place where the idea is still in my head, there are no words on paper, and all is lovely possibility. As a meditator, it is the place of the blank and the vast. Erase everything and begin again.

When we got together yesterday, as usual, Lee had insight into my meditative journey. She is a reader of my blog and noticed that in my last post, I wrote about my natural affinity for the Sanskrit words Sat, Chit, Ananda. (Deepak Chopra translated this as existence, consciousness, and bliss.)   I loved the way the words sounded and for some reason the phrase stuck in my head. Sat, Chit, Ananda became a natural mantra for me.

Lee knows that my usual mantra is "Who am I?" I use these words to coax away my thoughts. The question comes from other discussions I've had with Lee. She has encouraged me to seek an answer beyond the superficial. Yes, I am wife, mother, daughter, lawyer, teacher, widow, writer. But beyond those trappings, who am I? And so, I have said the Who am I mantra for many months.

Lee is not a believer in coincidence. How powerful to ascribe intentionality. How powerful to observe the obvious.

"You asked, Lori. Who am I. Now, you have your answer."