Meditative Reflections
This morning, I arose at around 6:30 a.m. I went to bed early the prior night, further trying to instill discipline in myself and trying to get ready for the sleep schedule I will be acceding to at the Ashram
I have come to find myself more productive and happy in the mornings regardless. I can hear the birds sing, some cars on the road, and I get to soak in the cold atmosphere. Things turn from dark to bright and I try to do the same in myself to reflect that. There is just enough light with just enough natural sounds, the perfect conditions for a still, tranquil time to focus and learn
This morning was just that. There was a light snow, almost slow enough to observe flakes dropping with precision. The birds came out, the dogs barked from time to time, the temperature was right around freezing point (roughly 30 degrees Fahrenheit). There was enough there to be mindful of but not so much that it drove the mind
I looked up a guided meditation I had worked on previously. It is an hour in length and I had only completed about 50 minutes in the past and that was when I was fully awake. Done by Florence Meleo-Meyer of the Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center, this is one of the best meditations I've come across and it comes from a professional. This time, I wanted to test myself to go the full hour and try to be as focused as possible. I wanted to slowly come close to simulating what my Ashram experience will look like (up to 2 hours of meditation) and this was one of the better ways to do it. I'll share some of the immense insight from this particular meditation. Bear in mind, I began this little over a month ago; before that, I had little idea of the practice and was leading a very unhealthy lifestyle. The benefits will come swiftly!
My mind would only wander a few times from my breathing and focus on my sensory surroundings. In previous meditations, at shorter length and being more wakeful, it probably wandered 10 times as much. I came into this one with a bit more joy and happiness, as I kept a smile most of the meditation
Anyone looking to take up the practice needs to know that it will be difficult as you begin and progress is not perfectly linear. You will often want to fall asleep and your mind will sometimes wander more some days than on others. Sometimes, you may feel more blissful than you did in other meditations. Some of it depends on how you come into the particular meditation. You have to have the courage to stick with it and focus, letting everything else go. The benefits will far outweigh the initial difficulty
I found that intense focus probably about halfway through, at the 30 minute mark. My mind was less inundated with thoughts and sensory overload and I could give full care and attention to my breath, feelings, perceptions, and thoughts I wanted to examine. I felt in so much control!
The reality is that typically the first quarter to first half of my meditation is letting the mind settle, finding the breath, and slowly finding that deep calm. From there, all else follows. It took me that first half of putting in the hard work and the results were bountiful:
- Near the end, I began to wonder (not wander, of course, or else I wouldn't have the clarity of these thoughts) how to better provide love and empathy to my friends, most who have been through, and still toil under, great suffering, stress and trauma. I began to picture the mind as a vast, calm river, with slow ripples
- We must be the ones to bring those suffering on a swim. We must dive in with them; if they can not dive, we must lend them a hand to step in gradually. We show them the water is tranquil, and so can be their mind. We swim as a community and grow together, constantly moving towards the shores of greater being
- As waves come, this is where we apply compassion and we meditate. We move with patience and guidance to those who need strength. We know that the ultimate state of the river is that of tranquility and stillness, and so we press forward knowing it will be
- When we get out of the river, this is not the end of the love. We must also provide warmth to souls still cold. It would only be a half measure to bring someone suffering into the turbulences and cold a river can hold and then tell them they are on their own. We must provide the towel, and the fire, and the shelter thereafter. Growth is a long, steep process
- That fire and that shelter look like letting them know they are beautiful and that so is the world. Simply removing trauma and inculcating stillness is not sufficient if there is not a novel world to replace the turpitude that has been left. The process, eternal as it may be, makes us all stronger if we swim together
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| A group of young people swimming in a river |
- I smiled most of this meditation. As I have been actively smiling perpetually these last few days, I've come to find my face hurt and become stiff. Not this time! It almost felt stuck, as if to say that "this is the way to approach life; enter into difficult tasks with happiness and they will provide even more benefit." It was a different feeling but I'm smiling as I write this!
- Focus on your nose at the very end of a breath. This will help to center your body and mind, as it is in the center of both and is where the breath emanates from. Let your breath and focus finish at the nose
The most intense moment was also one that was a catalyst for serious introspection into my childhood. It was a short but capacious moment. From the 58:34 mark to 58:46, you can hear dim whistling underneath the flow of the stream
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| John.....Lennon whistling |
At first, I thought I was in such an ethereal state of being that I just imagined the whistle, as if to add some kind of rhythm to my thoughts. I went back and confirmed that this was indeed part of the guided meditation. Where most may have glossed it over, I heard it with such an illustrious transparency that it felt like the loudest noise!
I have an interesting history with whistling. My stepfather, John, who was with me from the time I was about 13 until about 19, was an idiosyncratic whistler. He would do it while washing the dishes, while sweeping, while driving, and along with snapping. There would be no music on and he had no specific tune or melody he would go with. It was always something new. It was so recognizable that one year he received a Christmas present--- a documentary on whistling (I wasn't aware they made those either)
This would drive me and my siblings mad. I would get this palpitating spinning in my head and slowly be filled with anger. The others didn't like it either. It would hurt our focus and disrupt our day
We would mock him. We would complain to my mom and others. He would continue ad nauseum. A number of times, this would lead to tension, and it would certainly contribute to some of the fighting and dissension down the line
As odd as it may be, I often find myself whistling as I've grown. I'll whistle while walking down the street, at the bus stop, while waiting in a line. I do it much in the same way that John did. It came when I felt good and I knew I was on to something special. It also came at times when I need uplift
This whistling noise made me empathize, even forgive John. For that ten long seconds, I could see that it was his sanctuary. Here was a man with constant pain in his body and stress in his mind: a former iron worker who had broken his back on the job now entering retirement age and losing many he had once loved
That whistling was a rhythm John would try to use to move more happily and put aside some of that pain. There was nothing idiotic about what was idiosyncratic, as I had previously thought. It was simply John trying to add a little positive vibration to his life, as any idiosyncrasy is. It's is someone trying to provide themselves solace in a way that only they know. It's uniqueness that needs to be embrace
I could see myself swimming with John, whistling with each breath above the water, forgiving each other as we find the warmth of tranquility and kinship. I could see that whistle slowly getting louder as we got closer to the shore, slowly picking up more harmony as we began to find our pace swimming
The meditation ended. The epiphany I had about John and whistling was left bare with me to ruminate on. I could hear the surrounding sounds in such vivid detail. My vision was piqued and was almost pixellated, as I could see my room so clearly
I could feel this almost rumbling vibration in my feet. It was telling me to whistle as you find rhythm in life and move with that, whether it's walking down the street, on a long, turbulent swim or in your life's greatest passions. Just whistle. Find your purpose and make sure it whistles. You don't know where those vibrations may reverberate!
Onwards,
D
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