I often wonder, do I really meditate? I never wonder, do I really levitate? If I did, I'd know. Floating up in the air, defying gravity with my mind: that there, boys and girls, would be a definitive answer. Joe and I had dinner with our neighbors Atul and Shuva the other night. They were born in India and are practicing Hindus, so I asked Shuva about meditation. Her practice is a whole lot more impressive than mine. For me, meditation is a powerful habit. For Shuva, it's a mystical experience. She's been in the presence of her long dead parents and once clearly saw a bright blue Buddha that she later saw for sale at Saks Fifth Avenue.
Shuva is confidant about her abilities with regard to meditation, but she confessed she has not reached the level of clarity as have many of her relatives. She told me about her uncle who is able to levitate.
The first time I stood on my head in a yoga class, I felt a rush of joy as I accomplished something that seemed truly impossible for a middle-aged woman to accomplish. I crashed my own expectations of myself as the world turned upside down. It was a personal breakthrough and although I impressed a few of my friends, in the long run the ability for me to stand on my head didn't amount to much.
It's irrelevant to me whether or not it's factually true that Shuva's uncle has been able to levitate. It's more about what the suspension of disbelief can bring to a life. As a friend said to me today about her boyfriend: his perception is his reality. Yeah. For all of us. In my world, can I perceive of a person who can concentrate so singularly she is able to levitate? Might I, one day, be able to suspend myself mid-air because of my superior power of concentration? I am a person who likes definitive answers and if my butt rises out of my chair without any assistance from my physical self, that will be an answer to something important. Next step: figure out the question.