Return
It's an odd word if you think about it. But what an essential concept.
Return, O holy Dove, return,
Sweet messenger of rest
William Cowper, 1772
I had mentioned in this earlier post how music often plays over and over in my head after I have sung it with a choir. This song was with me during this morning’s meditation, no matter how many times I let it go. It kept returning! And in particular, the word return kept returning.
It’s an old word in English. We can trace it to the 14th century, from the Old French retorner turn back, turn round.
A desperate plea in the song I have been practising. The composer feels bereft of the Spirit and is begging for it to come back with the much longed for gift of release and rest.
But most of all for me, it’s the fabric of my every day. Upon waking, I return to consciousness and when I am resigned that no more sleep will be had, I prepare for morning meditation, which is returning countless times to the breath, returning from every distraction. Returning.
The day as it follows on from there is returning to presence, each time I am pulled away. It could take minutes, or even hours if things get really busy in the hamster wheel of a busy work day.
I wrote a few months ago in The Cost of Being an Empath (note: I am not an empath, but empathetic, and know some empaths) about grounding practices. I can very quickly during a day lose my centre, my sense of presence, so being able to return, self-regulate if necessary, and listen as I am now to that bird song repeating over and over, feel the air wash over the skin on my hands, revel in a sunrise in beautiful tones of pink and gold, smell the gentlest hint of incense still in the air from yesterday, and taste the sharp remnants of the toothpaste from before meditation.
Why is it when the present moment can be so sweet and dear when savoured do I find myself disappearing from it into a memory, a song, the ringing in my ears, a worry for the future, or something else?
Force of habit, I suppose. The mechanisms so patiently and thoroughly laid down by the false self year after year don’t give way easily. The new neural re-wiring of presence takes at least as much patience over years so I may become habituated to returning and returning back to myself more quickly when I turn away.
Returning to the rest of my day now…