One summer afternoon, I was with Ty at his home, where we were seated around a table and chairs on his verandah. There are a lot of trees around the verandah with plenty of cover for a variety of birds. A pair of crows had taken up residence in one of the trees, while lorikeets, kookaburras, butcher birds, miner birds frequented this green retreat in suburbia. This particular day, as we were talking, there was a commotion and then a butcher bird landed on the verandah rail. Immediately, more butcher birds landed on the rail and two birds perched on the chair and table at the far end of the table from where we were sitting. They were very young, one was very quiet, while the other was very vocal. It would look at us and sound out in a panicked voice. I turned away from the young birds to see there were now around 12 miner birds sitting on the rail and although the young bird was very vocal, the others didn't seem to be concerned that it was in danger with us. It blew me away how many birds had appeared on the rail and so quietly.
Ty whispered to be still and quiet and experience the connection with the birds. The vocal one then proceeded to move down the table towards me, seated at the end of the table, calling all the time, then jumping down to the floor and moving under my chair. The bird continued to call, until one of the birds flew away then the rest followed. All together, 15 minutes had passed since the first bird had landed and I was on a high having experienced the young one so close to me.
After coming down from this high, Ty thought that a predator may have appeared and that had provoked the commotion and the birds coming to the verandah. We discussed the fact that the adult birds including its mother, didn't seem concerned for the safety of the young ones. In fact, it was clear that they trusted us, as we didn't move, speak loudly or panic with fear. Being quiet and relaxed, allowed the birds to show their true selves as they felt unthreatened.
This was a good lesson about how to be when going into the bush. By staying still, no quick movements, not talking and allowing animals to come to you, will give you a closer connection to Nature, experience that animal's power or possibly a message for you. Animals do come to you to pass on messages, so when this happens, sit quietly, start meditating and connect with the animal. Ask, " If it has a message for you?" and let the animal speak to you. That is a special moment! Try it next time you go into the bush or want to connect with an animal.
It was a summer night and we had gathered at Ty's home for our regular meditation night, looking forward to what the night would bring. Would I receive a message tonight that would show me some important step in my journey, to find my Truth, to deeply connect to Spirit, to experience something that would amaze me, provoke me, take me to another state of consciousness, to another dimension where Ty would shapeshift into a myriad of images, faces that looked at me with such intensity and caring. As with every meditation with Ty, they are never the same, always different from the last one, so I was excited to be meditating in the group dynamic, creating a group consciousness that can be very powerful.
At first, we all gathered outside on a patio at the back of the house, sitting around a table and chairs, catching up on everyone's life and what is happening in the news. It is always enjoyable to be together with like-minded people, having a 'cuppa' of tea and conversation flowed easily amongst us. As the night went on, Ty would become quiet and somewhat distant, which was a sign for us that he was getting ready for the meditation, and when he indicated to us that the meditation was going to start, we would walk into the house and find our position to sit in the room.
This particular night I was still sitting in the recliner chair (hadn't moved to the floor at this stage) and I made myself comfortable, relaxing my body with some deep breathing to get into that trance state. Everyone was quiet, doing the same to relax and prepare for the start of the meditation. The glow of the light from the candles, incense burning its fragrant smoke, the darkness apart from the light of the candles, while slow, rhythmic music played in the background, all added to the atmosphere in the gathering of people that night. So we were all ready when Ty sat down and began the meditation by drumming. It's a powerful feeling to be swept along by the beat of the drumming, and sometimes you will have visions as you connect to every beat of the drum and you begin journeying. This happened to me and I was totally flying over countryside, my whole body was vibrating to the beat of the drum. It would play softly at first and gradually build up to a stronger and faster pace, you are totally with the drum, riding the drum beat when it softens or sounds louder, it is a wonderful experience to be had.
Whilst Ty was playing, I became aware of a mosquito flying around my ear with that familiar noise. I ignored it, hoping that it would leave me alone and move on to someone else for a snack. And as the drumming stopped, I was in the zone not allowing one pesky mosquito to stop my reaching a deep state of meditation. Ty started playing a singing bowl, when guess what? That pesky mossie re-appeared to disrupt my best endeavours to reach a deep state of connectedness. The noise of the mossie seemed to get louder and louder. It became my only focus, all I wanted to do was to move my arm to wave it away, but I knew this was a test of my ability to meditate no matter what distraction happens around you. You should be able to meditate no matter what noise or distraction occurs around you. In fact, later in another meditation Ty and I proved that right by meditating while outside people were mowing the lawn, whipper-snippering and finally a chainsaw roared, still we managed to disregard these distractions and go deep in our meditation.
But this was a time when my mind had a lot of power and chatter to distract me, so I struggled with the idea of not doing anything but to ignore the sound and put it into the background. That mosquito was determined. It flew close to my face and it was with all my will that I didn't swat it. I can remember saying to myself that I was actually willing it to hurry up and take a bite, so that it would be all over after that one bite. It would be full and it wouldn't bother me again. At least that was what I thought! The mosquito had other thoughts. My mind was going into overdrive, the more I tried to ignore the noise the louder it became. I hadn't learnt how to let go. Finally, I didn't hear any more noise, it's gone to annoy someone else, to ruin their meditation but I could resume mine in peace, when 'Oh no!' I felt something land on my arm. Guess who? Yes, it was that pesky mossie back to do the deed that it had threatened to do the whole time. It was as though time had stopped still, while I waited for it to start feeding. The feeling I felt as it pushed its proboscis into me is something I'll always remember. I don't know if it was because of my heightened state or not, but I literally could feel the probe going into my skin and it felt like a jackhammer had broken through my skin. Of course, my initial response was to crush the little 'sucker' with all my might, but that would be going against all that I stood for, so I generously donated my blood to the mossie blood bank and felt the blood being drawn out of me while my friend fed. That would be the most amazing thing, how my senses were so heightened during the mossie escapade, especially when feeding.
I'm pleased to say, both mossie and I survived the event and although we haven't seen each other again, I thank her for the lesson that she gave me. I go back to that event whenever I am doing meditation and something comes along, it could be an outside noise or an inner thought, and I can go back to my mossie friend and remind myself how I remained disciplined, and ignored all those outside distractions of her flying around my face and feeding on my arm, and that distraction quickly disappears into the background.
Little did I know that my lesson for that night would come from a tiny little mossie.