Title:

Water Dance:The Holosync Evolution

Word Count:
571

Summary:
The writer entertains the spiritual,psychological and emotional changes that have
emerged in her since her experience with Holosync meditation.

Keywords:
holosync, holosync meditation,holosync solution, the water dance, dance water,
water music dance, buddhist water, water relaxation, meditation music, meditation
cd, tm meditation

Article Body:
Copyright 2006 Mary Desaulniers

Each morning, for the space of an hour, I am immersed in water. For an hour, I
meditate to the Holosync sounds of rain, water, waves, a liquid drumming that rolls
beyond the pulse to a deeper source. Somehow during that hour, my breathing becomes
more formed, more regulated, more entrained, like a pair of dancing legs that has
found the rhythm at last and could well afford to be caught by a larger, deeper
power.

Each morning as I settle into water, I wait to be caught and I am seldom

disappointed. The interesting thing is that after almost 6 months of daily
meditation to the sounds of water (I�ve only missed 2 sessions), my whole body has
been groomed for the taking even before I put on my ear phones. And the taking is
like a grand plunge into the different layers of the self, only this self (for the
lack of a better image) is like a huge octopus dancing in the depths of the ocean
water. All my tentacles are veering wildly away from the center and yet I can feel
their rhythm perfectly in the center, all the incongruities making sense ultimately
in this center. Hard put to say what this image means, but it�s the most viable
description of how I feel at the end of the hour� a dancer reconciled to new
beginnings, un-choreographed steps, a dancer thinking on the tips of her dancing
slippers. It is a very subtle process--this growing sense of interconnectedness, a
profound sense that even the most perverse has its roots in the most plausible. I
am an octopus wanting to go in 20 different directions, feeling the outward pull--
inward�a sense of peace in the turbulence, softness in the cacophony.

After the tapes, I get up and the morning somehow falls miraculously into
place�each email, each phone call falling into place like a scripted dance. I am
focused at work, in my writing. Opportunities unfold before me. Words that I had
struggled before to make right�sound perfect in their resistance. Not everything is
melodic, but all that emerges is poetry�raw, cacophonous, not totally understood
nor totally cohesive�but perfectly in step.

When I come across something that previously would have torn me apart, I watch
unmoved. I am beginning more and more to see that impasse as part of the puzzle
whose beauty is that the final piece comes not at the end, but at the beginning.

I am less and less interested in searching for the final truth that justifies all,
but more and more contented with the million truths that fill each space and
fragment of time. And the irony is that somehow this cacophony makes me whole: I am
more than one. I am infinite�infinite pieces, infinite reflections from a single
piece or perhaps infinite pieces shattered from a single image. It does not matter
anymore, you see.

"The readiness is all," says Hamlet. And the immersion into these tapes seems to be
grooming me for that readiness. Readiness for what? For nothing and for
everything.

More and more I sense that the whole process of survival--living, working, writing,
mating, loving�all these are part of a water dance, wherein the play�s the thing,
not to catch the conscience of the king, but to be enjoyed and cherished as the
last waltz�before the next.