“One hot afternoon, during summer
vacation from grammar school, I wandered around in the yard looking for
something to do,” wrote actor Richard Chamberlain in his memoir Shattered Love, describing his
7-year-old self.
Richard Chamberlain |
“None of my pals seemed to be
around, and I was bored. For want of a better idea I climbed the walnut tree
and sat on the wall, leaning back against the restful curve. A light summer
breeze ruffled the leaves as I watched the occasional car or pedestrian pass on
the street. I gazed up at the over-hanging branches and hoped some of our local
feathered friends — mockingbirds, blue jays and doves — would come and visit
me.
“As I sat there motionless,
something absolutely new happened to me. I was filled with total stillness. It
was almost as if I wasn’t even breathing, almost as if I’d become a part of the
wall, part of the tree. And in this stillness I was observing everything around
me with complete neutrality, with no thought at all. There seemed to be
observation, but no observer.
“I don’t know how long this lasted
— probably not more than half an hour, possibly less. I did not know what was
happening to me. I only knew that my thinking went silent, and my sense of self
disappeared. I experienced absolute simplicity and peace.”
I had two similar experiences —
once when I was about 5, on the sunny lawn in front of our house in Effingham,
and another time when I was about 22, watching a fan revolve on a pleasant
summer afternoon.
Telling no one of his experience, Chamberlain
recalled that he very much wanted to feel that sense of vibrant, alert peace
again — but never did, until 60 years later.
My friend Jim Hampton pointed out that the Japanese have a word for this experience: "Kensho."
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