Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Meditation 107

I was cranky and I didn't want to go.  I was hungry and there is no time between Pilates and the start of Meditation to eat anything but a Kashi bar in the car as I drive.  I have so many rooms to clean at home and so little energy in the evening; I thought I'd go home and straighten out some piles. 

Somehow, my better self prevailed.  I drove down Campbell to the hospital, parked and strolled across the concourse to the Cancer Center, where Yogi Marsha leads us in contemplation. As I drove, I inhaled Peace and I exhaled Calm and by the time I arrived in the lobby I was surprised at how ready I was to be there.

I didn't judge my emotions.  I noticed them.  I remembered Yogi Marsha's three options: pleasant, unpleasant, neutral.  I noted that my emotions were unpleasant.  Actually, I said it out loud, to myself and whatever spirits were in The Schnozz at the time.  "So, these are unpleasant feelings."

I didn't try to change them.  I just noticed that they were there.  I didn't try to talk myself out of the blues (I know that doesn't usually get me very far) or berate myself for feeling sorrowful on a sunshiny day.  I didn't look for logic or a rational explanation for my distress.  I just noted that it was there.

I sat atop a cool, just-the-right-height-for-my-feet-to-reach-the-floor, tiled end table while I waited for the doors to the Meditation Room to open.  I paid attention to my hips sitting evenly on the surface, to my feet planted firmly but not harshly on the ground, to my back settled gently and directly above my pelvis.

 A lovely lady in the chair beside me laughed with me as I smiled to myself - G'ma would not have approved of my perch.  Not at all.  There are chairs available, young lady... I could hear her reminding me that furniture had a purpose and was not to be abused.  Somehow, she didn't make me move.  I was comfy, Mom.

There were two newcomers to our group, women my age who confessed to having a hard time stilling their minds.  After sharing mindfulness stories and a fifteen minute silent meditation and the Meta Suta, we walked out together.  They were intrigued but felt that they hadn't accomplished all that was intended.  I shared my first class experience and was delighted to hear that they would be returning for more.

It's not a simple thing, to quiet the mind.  There's a counter-intuitive piece, a piece that wants to be immediately connected to the action outside my eyeballs.  To go within, to concentrate on my breath and nothing else, takes a piece of myself I did not know existed.  It surprises me every time.  It's a fragile thing, disrupted by a cough or a banging from the floor above.  I'm aggravated when it disappears, and I struggle to find it again.

Still, I try not to judge.  It's an unpleasant sensation.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  I don't have to do anything to fix it.  It just is. 

For a snarky New York heathen, a person who is used to pummeling problems into submission, it's a new construct.  It expands my horizons while making them more manageable. 

Does that seem contradictory? 

Perhaps you should meditate on it for a while.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Talk back to me! Word Verification is gone!