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anita.
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June 30, 2026 at 2:58 pm #459019
PeterParticipantI noticed I was circling the same ground so don’t feel I had any else to say, and that remains true, however I came across a Richard Wagamese meditation and though I share it. I include my reflections and included a Krishnamurti to add contrast of approaches… though you may wish to let the poem speak for itself…
Home is the slumping drop of luggage on floors that bear the ghostly footprints of your motion. The light is a lambent thing that feels right on your shoulders, so that walking here after time away is a convergence of energies. Past, present and future allow you floating passage on the way to a collection of “now’s” that beat in your chest, settle on you lightly, glitter in your eyes and lodge in your mind as reflection, introspection and awareness. The shadow of the one you were before you left occupies a space in the corner as you re-enter and engage fully in simple, effortless things you do every day with what you come to recognize as love.” – Richard Wagamese – Embers: One Ojibway’s Meditations
When you are down at the very bottom, completely empty, when there is no longer any hope, no anymore ‘me’ to achieve, to become—then there is a sudden ending of sorrow, and in that emptiness there is a totally different movement, which is love.”— J. Krishnamurti
We travel so heavy, mistaking the weight of our baggage for proof of who we are. But healing begins the moment we finally let it drop. Moving past the sharp fire of deconstruction, we land softly in the eternal now, discovering that the emptiness we so deeply feared is actually the only place we are truly home…
There is a moment upon entering a room after a long journey where the physical weight of travel meets the hard stillness of the floor. We drop our luggage. It collapses with a heavy, unceremonious slump. In his meditation, Richard Wagamese catches us in this exact, vulnerable threshold. He reveals that we are not just dropping leather and cloth; we are dropping the desperate, accumulating momentum of who we think we are.
To cross this threshold, we must first face what Jiddu Krishnamurti so fiercely demanded: a radical stripping away of our baggage.
All our lives, we travel heavy. We pack our identities, our anxieties, our spiritual titles, and our past conditioning into heavy bags, dragging them frantically from one moment to the next. We mistake the weight of this psychological luggage for proof of our existence. We fear that if we let go of it, we will vanish. The mind treats the prospect of emptiness, the utter stillness of having nothing to carry and nowhere to run, as a terrifying, barren void.
But both the Elder and the Philosopher suggest that this void is an illusion born entirely of fear.
When Krishnamurti forces us to deconstruct our illusions, he pulls the rug out from under the ego to show that the container we are so afraid of emptying is already the source of everything. When the baggage is stripped away, the fear goes with it. You realize that you are not the traveler desperately gripping the handle; you are the wide, unconditioned space in which the journey is happening. The void is not a hostile abyss waiting to swallow you. It is simply the ending of psychological time.
This is where Wagamese’s fire meets the hearth. He reminds us that once the deconstruction is complete, what remains is a grand, quiet homecoming.
As the egoic shadow slumps into the corner, you step into an eternal, lambent light that fits perfectly on your shoulders. The frantic ticking of the clock dissolves into a seamless, golden collection of “now’s” beating inside your chest. By letting the false self die on the floor, you discover that the emptiness is actually entirely full. It is an effortless, sacred space where you can finally engage with the world with what you come to recognize as love.
Do not fear the stripping away. Drop the bag. Take off your shoes. The ground beneath you is already home.
June 30, 2026 at 8:01 pm #459029
anitaParticipantWelcome back, Peter 🙂
The luggage I have been dropping on floors in my own “grand, quiet homecoming”:
1. The hope that my mother will love me one bright, magical day.
2. Chronic shame.
3. Chronic guilt.
4. Chronic self- doubt/ distrust in my own perceptions, evaluations and emotions.
5. Chronic distrust in people who are okay.
6. Chronic emotional suppression and (chronic) over- reliance on intellect (having analyzed tiny buddha members like they were case studies 😔)
7. Everything else that’s chronic 🙂
Dropping this luggage is making it possible for me to “engage fully in simple everyday things” (Wagamese).
What’re you dropping, Peter?
🌿🌿🌿 Anita
July 1, 2026 at 7:46 am #459049
RobertaParticipantHi Peter
Lovely post, it described the hard to grasp concept in such an eloquent way.
I look forward to more positive input from you & those you find inspirational
RobertaJuly 1, 2026 at 1:48 pm #459063
Thomas168ParticipantFeels good to be home??
July 1, 2026 at 2:29 pm #459065PeterParticipantThank you all.
I’m realizing that if I try to list what I’m dropping, or try to measure whether this home is positive or negative, I’m packing new bags to carry.
Thomas asked if it feels good to be home. The truth is, the moment I try to label the feeling, it slips into form… and the shadow slumping in the corner starts to get up.
So I think I’m just going to sit here quietly on the floor for a while, next to the luggage, and listen to the room…
July 1, 2026 at 6:17 pm #459067
AlessaParticipantHi Peter
Excellent food for thought as always. 🩵
A difficulty is that it’s not just ego. It’s how human brains work. We save a lot of energy by relying on memory and running a quick comparison. It’s a survival mechanism.
Perhaps worth seeing how much can be dropped? Not a bad idea to try. Certainly some parts are ego.
The part of me that says hey I’m saving you pain is definitely lying. At the same time. It’s not and sometimes it is even right. But what can you do with this information? Not very much. Sometimes knowing just makes you anxious and makes the situation worse. A curse that I prefer to know and stare my problems in the face rather than be blissfully ignorant and hope for the best. One is less stressful. Sometimes knowing does help, because you can’t make changes if you aren’t aware of the problem.
I guess, what I’m trying to suggest is nuance. I guess the only way we figure that out is with time and practice? 🩵
July 1, 2026 at 7:06 pm #459068Thomas168ParticipantPeter said, “The truth is, the moment I try to label the feeling, it slips into form… and the shadow slumping in the corner starts to get up.”
I have that same reaction when I sit in meditation. I start to think I am doing good in my quiet meditation. Then realizing that I just failed again. Will there actually be a moment of just sitting?
July 2, 2026 at 6:35 am #459086PeterParticipantThank you, Alessa.
Perhaps the nuance is knowing when to put the map down. We need it to find the ocean, but we don’t carry it into the water when we swim.Thomas, you caught it exactly. The thought that we have “failed” at sitting is heavy piece of luggage. Yet the floor remains beneath us.
July 2, 2026 at 11:15 am #459089anitaParticipantRichard Wagamese: “Home is the slumping drop of luggage on floors… as you re-enter and engage fully in simple… love.”
Krishnamurti: “When you are down at the very bottom, completely empty… there is a totally different movement, which is love.”
Peter: “I think I’m just going to sit here quietly on the floor for a while, next to the luggage, and listen to the room…”
Thomas: “I have that same reaction when I sit in meditation. I start to think I am doing good in my quiet meditation. Then realizing that I just failed again. Will there actually be a moment of just sitting?”
Peter: “Thomas, you caught it exactly. The thought that we have ‘failed’ at sitting is heavy piece of luggage. Yet the floor remains beneath us.”
Anita’s research this Thursday morning: presence isn’t the absence of thought — it’s the absence of struggle with thought. Thoughts only become a problem when you start fighting them. If you stop fighting, they lose their power. If you stop trying to stop them, they slow down on their own.
Let the mind be noisy if it is — paradoxically, allowing noise makes it quiet sooner. This is the “slumping drop of luggage” Peter talks about — the moment you stop carrying the mental project of controlling your mind. You’re not pushing anything away; you’re simply not feeding it.
You stop giving a thought the fuel it needs to grow, multiply, or take over your attention. A thought only becomes powerful when you invest in it — by following it, arguing with it, analyzing it, or trying to get rid of it. All of those actions are forms of feeding. When you simply notice a thought and let it pass without climbing inside it, you’re removing its supply line.
Not feeding a thought doesn’t mean rejecting thinking altogether. It means you stop giving energy to the kinds of thoughts that spiral, tighten, or pull you away from yourself. Healthy thinking is spacious, intentional, and connected to reality. Unhealthy thinking is repetitive (ex: ‘I should’ve done it differently. I should’ve done it differently…’), anxious (ex: ‘What if they’re upset with me?’), or self‑erasing (ex: ‘I shouldn’t feel this way.’).
Self‑erasing thinking is any thought that shrinks your sense of worth, validity, or capability. “I have failed” doesn’t describe an event — it describes you. It collapses a moment, a difficulty, or a mistake into an identity. It can also become repetitive if the mind keeps circling it, and anxious if it’s tied to fear of consequences or judgment. But its core structure is self‑erasing because it turns a situation into a self‑attack.
You can stay present and think — as long as the thinking is serving you rather than running you.
Thoughts run a person when the mind keeps repeating something and you get dragged along, when a thought triggers anxiety or shame and suddenly, you’re inside the feeling, and when you start thinking about thinking, trying to fix or control the mind.
In all of these, the person isn’t directing the thinking — the thinking is directing the person. Presence disappears because the mind has taken the wheel.
I hope it’s somewhat helpful? I would like to think 🙂 about this further later.
Anita
July 2, 2026 at 7:23 pm #459113Thomas168ParticipantAnita,
Those were wise words. Thank you.
Tommy
July 2, 2026 at 7:33 pm #459114anitaParticipantAnd thank you, Thomas 🙏🙏🙏-
3 thank you-s because as I read your other message (submitted 4 min before this one), I experienced the first 😁 on my face this long, rainy, boring evening (here).
I love your sense of humor (consider me a fan)
😊 ✔️ Anita
July 2, 2026 at 7:35 pm #459115anitaParticipantOr should I address you as Tommy..?
July 6, 2026 at 8:08 am #459211PeterParticipantAnita 🙏 😊
July 6, 2026 at 8:11 am #459212PeterParticipantI have to laugh at myself reading back through this. I taken Richards soft and gentle words and treat this putting down of luggage as some monumental, difficult spiritual exercise. Yet, when we return home from a long trip, we naturally just drop our bags on the floor, slump against the wall, and eventually unpack them. Handling the contents one by one, calmly, until the suitcase is empty and slid under the bed out of sight.
It isn’t a grand technique; it’s just the natural movements of coming home. Thank you all for sitting on the floor with me for a bit.
July 6, 2026 at 10:09 am #459216anitaParticipantGood morning/ afternoon, Peter 🙂
My pattern has been to not stay with a feeling (a natural movement of coming home), but to jump to analysis and fixing (some monumental, difficult mental exercise). That turned a simple emotional truth into a mental project.
Instead of staying with a hurt, let’s say, my mind started asking why, how, what it means, what it says about me, what it says about the other person, etc., and the original feeling got buried under thinking.
A feeling that get buried alive, doesn’t disappear. The hurt stays in the body because the mind doesn’t let it be fully felt/ complete its natural cycle. The hurt becomes tension, irritability, or depression, and the original hurt gets mixed with old memories, fears, interpretations, and judgments
When thinking takes over, the feeling doesn’t move — it gets stuck.
Anita
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