I had been meditating for a while, and my mind had settled into a quiet rhythm when thoughts of roads began to surface. I imagined the roads that weave in and out of Charlottesville, Virginia—some bypassing the city, others passing through the heart of it. I pictured all these different roads, their overlapping paths crisscrossing and intertwining. As I focused on this image, my hands became aware.
At first, it was subtle, but then I felt it—a shift, an invisible current, like a soft energy passing through my forearms, through my hands. It wasn’t just a touch; it was a sensation of interconnectedness, the feeling of one point meeting another, a web of subtle energy that seemed to touch everywhere at once. The sensation was soft, radiant, almost like a gentle hum.
I had to get up for a moment, and when I returned, I settled back into my seat, looking to reconnect with that same awareness. As I focused again, I realized something: by concentrating so fully on the roads in my mind, everything else had faded away. My hands, now awake and full of light, became the center of my attention. It was as if everything in my body, every thought, every feeling, had gathered in this one place.
I thought of the autopilot on an airplane, how it takes over control, sensing everything it needs to navigate the flight. The plane becomes part of a larger system—weather conditions, air quality, the plane’s fuel and systems—all of it balanced by algorithms and data, flying the plane with incredible precision. I could almost feel that same precision in my hands, as though the energy in my body, in my mind, was moving in perfect harmony with the world around me.
It made me think of Grand Central Station, with people walking through its vast halls. Each person had their own path, their own destination, yet they all moved through the same space, creating a flow of energy, a collective hum. It wasn’t the individuals themselves that created the energy; it was the field between them, the subtle exchange of presence as they passed through that space. I could feel something similar in my own body—like a flow of energy connecting me to everything around me.
As I sat there, I realized something simple but profound: the system, the flow, the energy—it wasn’t separate from me. I wasn’t the passenger being carried along; I was the space in which it all unfolded. The autopilot, the roads, the people—it was all part of the same interconnected web. And in that moment, I understood that this was the essence of meditation: to be aware of the flow without needing to control it, to feel the energy without needing to name it or hold it. Everything, in its own way, was moving through me. And I was moving through it.
Spiritual Gravity 