John and Lisa's Blue Skies Blog – Soaring with God

Last week, I enjoyed a beautiful seven-day retreat at Garrison Institute with Rupert Spira and friends. On Friday morning, my husband and I shared some of our own older poetry with each other. I shared “Inchworm Meditation” published in 2014 with WestWard Quarterly. About an hour later, we went to the chapel for the 90-minute morning meditation with Rupert.

Formal meditation is a practice I enjoy, but sometimes I feel very sleepy in the middle of it. Whenever this happens, I open my eyes slightly and gaze toward the floor in front me to remain focused and awake. I opened my eyes on Friday morning, and what did I see? An inchworm! It was crawling on the cushion of the woman sitting in front of me. I was incredulous! How could this be possible? An inchworm directly in front of me during meditation? A spider or a beetle I could understand – but an inchworm?

I tapped my husband’s knee and pointed directly to the inchworm so he could see it, too. When I did this, I became aware that the young man, Jon, sitting next to me had seen the inchworm as well. We made eye contact briefly. The inchworm behaved exactly as I describe in my poem, including being “poised tall on hind legs.”

As I watched the inchworm, I began to fear for its safety since the woman on the cushion didn’t know it was there; she might move and crush it. Eventually, she DID move, and the inchworm was swept away, perhaps crushed. Jon and I immediately looked at each other. His expression seemed to say “holy crap!” This – for whatever reason – I suddenly found hilarious, and I had trouble controlling my laugher in the silent chapel.

In my mind, to center myself, I went to a painting called “Death is Safe,” by Rob McRae which I had seen on display earlier in the morning. The painting shows a large red circle in the center. I visualized the red circle and repeated the words “death is safe” a few times in my mind. The red circle evoked a sense of feminine protective energy. This somehow moved my emotions into sadness and I began to cry. I wondered about the inchworm and sent love to it. Lots and lots of love.

Then, I moved effortlessly into quiet, centered meditation in pure Being. This felt sacred and full.

Periodically, laughter or sadness returned. I simply noticed how the emotions showed up as physical sensations in my body. I also remembered the incident with John Cabeen near the helicopter crash memorial in Virginia Beach where I saw the inchworm that inspired my poem.

When I opened my eyes again, the inchworm was back! The lady on the cushion saw it and protected it. After the meditation, she placed it safely outside. She, Jon, and I talked about the incident, and the synchronicity of my poem, Inchworm Meditation. I continued to feel completely incredulous. How could this happen? What could it mean?

Then it hit me: This was a communication from John! My mind needs an explanation and this seems the most logical. October 15th marks one year since we scattered John’s ashes over the ocean. I think of him often; I miss him and sometimes even imagine what he would say regarding the things happening in the world now.

So, I believe John sent the inchworm (and Jon sitting next to me) to let me know all is well with his spirit wherever he is now, to say hello, and to say he really loved the retreat setting on the Hudson River and the teachings of Rupert. Indeed, John must be directly experiencing the teachings of non-dualism (Advaita Vedanta) now. Life is mysterious and beautiful!

Rupert Spira: “Let all becoming rest in Being.”