For about two months now I have decided to change the way I do my shopping. I am tired of filling half a bin after a shopping trip with plastic packaging that serves no purpose; of the quality of the vegetables and fruit growing ever more watery; of white celery yielding less celery juice; of the flowers I buy hanging their heads the very same day; of the taste of any given food bearing no comparison with the flavours I was brought up on; and of the bill doing a stretching exercise skywards every week, even when I stick to my shopping list, which I usually do. And even though the staff in the supermarket are professionally friendly and correct, there was something I was missing.
For two months now my diary has had this starred on Tuesday mornings: ‘to the market’. A very old habit that I have brought back in. With a few shopping bags in hand I explore the market and tick off my shopping list. Vegetables, fruit, meat, fish and flowers all look better. They taste better too. And above all they make me want to taste them. Except for the flowers, that is. I am addressed in a lively way as ‘madammeke’ and waved off enthusiastically until next time. The willingness to serve the customer is visible, and they show that they know me as a customer and can read what I need. In all the years I have been going to the supermarket, I have no experience of that kind of warm contact.
Rather arrogantly of me, perhaps, I used to think that going to the market was no longer necessary. How wrong I was. It is a wonderful experience and good for the daily step count I want to reach, because the stalls I need are set fairly far apart.
On the edge of the market stands a large chapel. It is called a chapel, but to me it has all the allure of a church. The porch of that church often draws me in as I pass by, as though it wanted to invite me. Every now and then I step inside. So I did this morning too. A devoted lady was arranging the flowers and a little later carried a bucket to the sacristy. I suspect she had been doing a bit of cleaning. The chapel looks spick and span. Neatly painted, everything in good repair and lavishly decorated.
I sit down in the second row, on the first chair of the row seen from the central aisle. It is pleasantly calm and serene in there. Among the soft music in the background I hear a song from long ago that, to my own astonishment, I could still sing along to. It made me happy. Right now its name escapes me.
I decide to do my daily morning attunement in this chapel before I go and fill my shopping bags at the weekly market.
I attune myself, in silence, more and more in contact with my essence. In one line. On one point. Carried, loved, supported and inspired. It happened all by itself. As though the energy of the chapel were glad that I was making use of it. Just as I was glad.
After a while it was complete. As I walked out, I felt charged up like a brand-new battery. This promises to be a good day, flashed through my mind. Might it be an idea to come here once more in the mornings to attune myself? My heart nodded yes.
With an easy stride I walked to my first stall. I bought seven bunches of flowers for €12. To brighten up my house, just as I had been brightened up in the chapel. Now on to the vegetable stall. ‘What’ll it be, madammeke?’ What a lovely question.
At first sight this piece is mainly about the market, but my message is about something else as well. What is the first thing you do in the morning? Do you make time for attunement in the morning? Attunement? What is it? How do you do it? What is the point of it? And above all, what is it that you attune to? Could it become a daily habit for you, just like brushing your teeth?
In the chapel I attuned myself to a field that charges me up for the day. A field in which I am aware of who I am. A field from which it is easier to let go of the disruptive elements in my life. A field in which I become glad and joyful about life in general and about my existence in particular. In that field my heart opens to the possibilities life holds out to me. In it I am healed and lifted up. It recharges my batteries without my using any electricity. Do you have to go to a chapel for that? Of course not. The field is everywhere, and therefore available everywhere.
In all the activities I organise, whoever they are meant for, I work from this field. Time and again I get to witness the growth and the joy, and also the struggles, that my students experience. The struggles only crop up when you resist the life energy, the growth and the joy. They disappear when you attune yourself to the field of conscious being.
The activities on the programme are all about the attunement that is so sorely needed in times when turbulence is the main theme of the news. It is an invitation, to you, dear reader, to become part of the growing group of people waking up in the field of conscious being.
I would love to welcome you with open arms at one of the autumn activities.
With a zest-for-life greeting
Hilde Van Bulck