Sunbeams slant through open sky, slip and seep through fluttering golden leaves, and peek through panes of old glass before settling upon the wide, pine-planked floorboards where I sit in meditation.
In my soft box of light, I narrate my breathing, In...Out...In...Out... I silently say. Soon I am focusing on the breath rather than observing the breath, and before I can slow it down, it becomes like a runaway sentence, going and going until I am gasping, leaping, tumbling, and landing onto the grassy meadow of my consciousness.
I let go. I become still. I breathe. Then I pray, Empty me and fill me with light. For several minutes, I pray this plea. Empty me and fill me with light.
Then I hear, within me,
I am the light.
As these words pour through me, a sunbeam, sudden and bold, bursts through space to shine upon my face. The sunbeam stays with me for a little while, whispering,
I am the light.
The light is within me. I am the light. The light is me. I have everything I need. I am everything I need.
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