Everyone has a spot.
A spot to visit.
A spot made of grass and earth and air and space.
A spot to go to be yourself.
A place to think, or make a decision.
Just find out who you are again.
Or simply reconnect.
A spot that feels special.
A spot you need to travel a distance, so the effort makes the magic.
Not in your home, but it feels like home.
A spot where your skin settles and your bones feel ancient.
You know what I mean.
We all have one.
A spot surrounded by nature, people and soft background noise, but under the ambient noise, the silence is golden.
A spot where you can see the air change in color, taste, vibration and hue as you approach.
A spot that somehow knows you and welcomes you….
Yep, put up your hand and admit the magic and wonder of your very own spot.
And if you don’t have one, you just have to find it, because it is out there waiting…
We all have one.
Remember, energy can neither be created nor destroyed and when we are born, and we breathe that first breath, the energy has to come from somewhere.
To give us life.
Generally, it comes from just down the road.
Sometimes from over the sea and through the rock, but generally, just down the road….
And it rests in a spot before it stops in you.
And gives you the gift of life.
That’s how we know our spot
I have a spot.
It’s on a park bench, second from the right.
Between the Archibald Memorial Fountain and St Mary’s Cathedral at the north end of Hyde Park.
Right in the middle of the old part of the city of Sydney.
You can feel the ghosts of convicts, chipping at the blocks of sandstone running around the base of the fountain.
When I go there the sun is always shining.
There is always a light zephyr of a breeze blowing.
I feel neither hot nor cold, but just right.
Lots of tourists and newly-wed couples take pictures next to the fountain.
Of happiness and light.
Light catches the drops of water floating on the breeze, creating translucent rainbows floating on the slowly moving air.
Office workers sit around the fountain and eat their take away sushi in the sun.
Young lovers kiss and kanoodle on the grass verges.
Parents walk their children down the wide path to David Jones and Centrepoint.
Love and light.
Even the homeless and rough sleepers appear to gain some serenity in the surrounds.
It is peaceful.
Love and light and peace.ace.
And one of the best parts of this spot?
The best part is its natural barrier to the manic joggers and bike riders who pour out of the surrounding office towers.
Love and light and peace repels the mania.
I like that!
When I come to this prism of love and light and peace my bench is always free.
My spot is waiting and prepares for my arrival.
I may only come once every 2 or 3 years but my spot knows I am on my way.
The bench is free.
Or maybe not…
When I sit on my bench in my spot I throw my head back, close my eyes and bask in the sun like a lion fully fed, lying on the dusty prairie.
I take a couple of deep breaths.
3 really deep breaths, right from my diaphragm and not from my chest.
Deep, way down deep.
Then I drop my shoulders and pretend my legs and arms are bits of liquorice or pieces of string, and as I slowly breathe in and out, I roll my legs and arms up and down.
And then, I go to my chest and with my eyes still closed and my breathe still slow and deep, I imagine my ribs can fold in and out, in and out, in and out, and my torso relaxes and lets go of all the pent up energy and regret.
And finally, my head becomes a balloon, and three times, thrice, I blow it up slowly, as large as it will go, and all the resentment and anger floats away.
And I am free in my spot.
And my spot says to me, take this with you my son, and now every night this is my meditation.
The string of my limbs.
The cantilever of my chest.
And the balloon of my head.
And the slow, slow expansion of my tummy and my heart.
And I am free.
Every night I am free.
Thanks to my spot.
I feel safe.
Safe and present.
And the clouds part just a little bit more and the sun shines just that touch stronger and I feel part of who I was, and who I am, and my Koori heritage becomes a legacy of light and love and peace, and the Earth wraps its loving arms around me and I am one.
And the grass under my rubbery, liquorice feet, grows a few inches longer and caresses my weary toes and I let go further.
Letting go to live.
To live and laugh and love.
All because of my spot.
Words by David Stewart and Picture by Mike Chrysler