There are a series of experiences from the time before I began, that I associate with the search for something that was satisfied in finding meditation practice.
Before I could walk down stairs, I used to “bump” down the stairs. I would sit on the top stair, lower both my legs to the stair below and then bump down the step. The process was repeated until; on reaching the ground floor I would stand and walk. On one occasion I remember I stopped and ‘woke up’ halfway down the staircase. I was wearing shorts and could feel the bristly carpet on the back of my thighs. My hand was on the carpet beside me. The colour, texture and pattern of the wallpaper. The dimness of the light in the hallway.
A thought arose – although it was more than a thought it arose in my heart and body as well as my head.
“What on earth is going on here?” Who am I”, “and in this place?”
The feeling was pleasant and intriguing.
Another experience was from a time when my brother and I shared a bedroom. I can remember being in bed.
It’s light outside, birds are singing, the curtains are closed and I feel relaxed and unworried. My bed is made of tightly tucked in sheets which feel cool and smooth as I extend my limbs slowly outwards. My body changes, becomes vast, cool and peaceful. My breath, at ease and clearly textured, is indistinguishable from my body. My brother says something to me that seems to come from the edge of eternity and after some time I answer. My voice echoes lightly through the vastness towards him.
The feeling of my body, breath and perception had a particular quality of materiality which I remember trying to find an example of in the outside world in the shape of seeds, conkers, objects on the “science table” at school. At the time I was in Year 3 juniors so about 9 years old.