A Reflection on the 49-Day Prathyabhijna Retreat
By Beata Kucienska
The trees are wavering between life and death. They are touching the ineffable. They grow somewhere between time and the timeless. They guide me beyond myself. In this house made of hard matter, windows to wonderland appear. Silence is a broom that sweeps away the illusions created by the mind. Beauty is revealing itself.
Seven weeks in silence… The mind interferes constantly and I feel compassion for it. I know it is scared and I allow it to feel this fear. Pain in a dream is real, even if the one who feels it is made of void. The void hurts the void, and the void perceives the void as suffering.
Yes, my little one, you have all the right to be afraid. But who are you, really? Who is the one that is watching?
The birds sing inside me. The day starts with the gentle song of the first bird that awakens. The others slowly join the choir. The whole day I hear nothing but surrender. At sunset, they gather on a huge tree and sing a crazy concert together—as if they had to express all their inner music before falling asleep.
The Heart says: “learn from the birds,” and I listen. I receive the message beyond words. I swim in the infinite softness of being. I taste innocence being offered unconditionally to the one who reaches an arm to the sky and puts God in a cage.
I am the one who is singing and I am the one who is killing Beauty. I am the one who is longing for freedom and I am the guardian of my prison.
Oh Beloved, liberate my soul. Take me beyond myself. Guide to me to the sacred space of the Heart. Open the gate to the Kingdom of Stillness. Carry me there… In Your tender arms, I become a song. I cannot die.
How could I be so blind? How could I not see that the birds are Love turned into music? How could I not see that the entire Earth is the vibration of Your Heart? Of my Heart…
Beyond pain, beyond fear, beyond death, is this Song that never stops. Above the clouds of the mind, there is an immense clarity—so delicate and vibrating with Life. In the depths of the human heart, there is an opening to the space of infinite compassion. The forgotten Garden of Eden. Our origin.
Silence is growing in me
like an immense tree
with roots in the Heart
It grows into my bones, muscles, and skin
It is in me
and it is me
Silence is flowing in me
It flows in my blood, tears, and breath
It embraces me from inside
It enters my thoughts
It penetrates my pain
with deep mystery