As Brett and I were leaving our morning yoga & chanting session we saw above us an incapacitating helmet of grey, an ominous barrier mocking our attempts to gaze. We knew from our thwarted experience yesterday morning that a trek to the top of the canyon would not intimidate the clouds. At best it would be a stroll into the fresh air; at worst we could end up with a foot full of dog poop and cactus thorns. So we set our minds to gaze today, for the first time since we began our quest, at sunset.
I am reading a book called “The Power of Your Subconscious Mind” by Joseph Murphy, and in it he calls the small ganglionic mass of nerves at the back of our abdomen our “abdominal brain” or our “subconscious mind,” and it’s located in our solar plexus. The idea is that our subconscious mind tends toward harmony and has the power to manifest our desires into physical reality and heal us. That sounds an awful lot like the claims made my NASA and fellow gazers about the effects of the sun itself. So I’m thinking our solar plexus, which houses our subconscious mind, is like a miniature version of the sun radiating inside us. It is a spark, inside my gut, giving me my gut feelings and illuminating me and guiding me from within. Solar energy is the fuel for my intuition. I think when we are sungazing we are charging up our brain as a by product because its right behind our eyes, but the real goal, the coveted result, is to get to light deep into the rivers and canals of our body so it travels down into our center and charges up the solar plexus, which is a charge to our subconscious mind. Sunlight nourishes and makes grow.
The goal of gazing for 44 minutes at the end of the nine months, according to Dwinell in his book “The Earth Was Flat: Insight into the Ancient Technique of Sungazing” is to make sure and expose all of our blood to the solar energy because forty four minutes is how long it takes for all the blood to pass behind the retina. I imagine this light charging each blood cell which in turn carries that energy deep inside me to the small cluster of brain cells in my gut named after the sun. The light comes from the sun deep in the center of our solar system, enters through my eyes and travels back home to the sun deep in the center of my solar plexus. As above, so below, as within, so without. The clouds usually bring with them a sense of melancholy or foreboding fragrance of failure. Now I look at the clouds and smile because they can only keep me from gazing upward at the sky. But they can’t stop me from breathing deep, closing my eyes, and gazing at the sun that lives at home, deep inside of me.
SIDE EFFECTS: It’s been two days without so much as a wink from the sun.
BENEFITS: I will be seeing a sunset today.
