As I move through the day, I notice the subtle currents in the feeling center of the body.
Sometimes there is liking—something I want, something that draws me in. Sometimes there is indifference—the neutral hum of life passing through me. And sometimes there is not liking—an edge, an irritation, a tightening in the field of feeling.
But even “not liking” has layers. It can feel like tolerating, a rigid holding, as if my muscles are braced against an intrusion.
If I let go just a little, it becomes patience—still tight, but less rigid. I am waiting it out, giving it room, holding steady.
If I soften further, I begin sliding into contentment. The annoyance loosens, the feeling is allowed, and the body finds an easier rhythm. Breathing, noticing, letting it be as it is.
Then, as the flow gathers, contentment opens into happiness—a lightness, a warmth, a sense of ease.
And if the mind quiets further still, happiness dissolves into the Divine current—that background presence flowing through all states, carrying me beyond effort into simple being.
At any moment of the day, I can pause and ask: Where am I in the feeling spectrum right now?
Do I feel the weight of tolerance?
The tautness of patience?
The settling calm of contentment?
The lightness of happiness?
Or the expansive flow of the Divine?
I can even notice where in my body the feeling anchors itself—tightness in the chest, heaviness in the gut, a soft glow in the heart. Each sensation marks how much attention I am giving to the moment, how much grasping or relaxing is present.
And when the shift happens—from resistance to allowing—I wonder: is it initiated by the conscious mind choosing to release, or by the body’s own wisdom, its muscle memory of letting go? Perhaps it is both. The mind opens the door, and the body remembers how to walk through it.
Spiritual Gravity 