I�ve studied meditation several times in my life. The early practice, in my late teens, was without benefit of a real teacher, more so a sincere wish to know what would happen, how I�d grow � and if I would; the friends who meditated in those days were in their early 20s and also smoked a lot of contraband, so I was not entirely convinced it was the meditation that was making them so mellow!

Periodically over the years before I moved back to California, when I was in Colorado especially, I meditated on a more regular basis, but still had only books to guide me, and more often than not the danged books disagreed, which left me feeling confused, except when someone led a guided meditation, which meant my fertile imagination was guaranteed to take flight and I felt like I made some worthwhile progress. I was also a member of the most terrific, healing, compassionate, powerful, loving, celebratory women�s group during my last several years in Colorado, and the energy blesses me still, because I know those women still periodically invoke my name. We did some worthwhile work and learning, and those memories are very sweet.

By the time I extricated myself from the less-than-satisfying business venture in tandem with an ill-advised and, as a result, ill-fated love affair with my business partner that characterized my time in Santa Fe, New Mexico, I couldn�t seem to sit still long enough or be sufficiently quiet inside to meditate; I sought and found a meditation teacher who, to my dismay, ultimately showed himself to be an ego-driven, trumped-up guru. I learned some valuable techniques, but for reasons that were never comprehensively explained, there was no graspable concept or connection to God/Goddess/All That Is/The Great Spirit/Source/Buddha/(insert name choice here), and the charm of knowing how was swiftly replaced with why bother? It seemed that in his lexicon, to paraphrase 1984, some of us were holier than others. Even though he preached that we were all One. Unity with sycophants isn�t my idea of a healthy ashram. So I quit.

Fast-forward to about a year later, when I took a meditation class at my church (where I�d found that missing connection, and that void in the middle of meditation had been filled �meditation at every service, and I realized I owned a representative sampling of just about every category in the large bookstore, it was the right place). The teacher was a soft-spoken, soulful, laughter-filled, loving man, also a musician and gardener and seeker, who created a remarkable space in which to discover and rediscover and count on continuing to find � at last! � God/Goddess/All That Is/The Great Spirit/Source/Buddha/(insert name choice here) in the midst of meditation. The class was so life-changing that, in fact, all I have to do now is pause, take a deep breath, and BE THERE.

So when that same teacher e-mailed me about a new class he was offering, during which participants could experientially participate in the enlightenment journey of the Buddha (and discover some facets of one�s own enlightenment along the way, of course), you know I jumped at the chance. Forwarded that e-mail to several friends, many of whom are with me in the class, another bonus. It started last night. Three hours of dancing; meditating; listening to stories about anticipating the realization of divinity, and the mystical tale of the Buddha�s birth; reenacting those stories in more meditation; symbolic, sacred dance; and a heart-opening gentle ritual during which we not only acknowledged, but saw one another�s divinity. The evening resonates with me still, almost 24 hours later.

One of the realizations that has come to me since is: despite being a performer, and making it �look easy� onstage, this sort of spiritual exercise is another thing entirely. There was apprehension that came right up in my face, in my mind and heart, and said hello� and I realize now that it was truly quite easy to see other people�s divinity; the aspect of it that brought up the apprehension was knowing, as I saw the other person�s divinity, it was a reflection of my own. Somehow that was far, far easier to do with the people I know and love than it was with the people I�d not met before last night. But I could still see it, and be deeply delighted by the experience.

This promises to be a discovery-laden week.

Meanwhile, back at the workplace � last week I worked 56 hours, and sang in church on Sunday morning and at a 4-hour gig in the afternoon, so despite the day off there was really no downtime. Ten hours on Monday, nine hours yesterday, and so far I�ve been here a little over nine and a half hours today. I�ve told them I�ll turn into a pumpkin past 9 o�clock tonight. I�m still getting up at 4:40 a.m. to go work out at the gym every morning, of course; because it�s as far as I can get from sitting at a desk and editing!

Although the pressure is wearing me down a bit, last night�s class energized me in a subtle but sustaining way. Staying open to possibility, dear ones!