More Meditation

October is the month of simplifying and living in the moment. Seems like a good time to learn to meditate. Becoming a bona fide meditator remains an elusive quest. Some of you may remember my first uncomfortable foray into the world of meditation classes. My do-it-yourself approach to meditation at home was also an epic fail - I've been on the same page of Jon Kabat-Zinn's Full Catastrophe Living for over a month. Recently, I went back to the meditation classes down the street. Last class, all I needed to do was stare at a candle and then share my reflection (initially, we were told the sharing was optional, but then the entire group shared and looked expectantly at me. I'm not sure that my whole "I'm new to this and had a hard time quieting my mind" was what they were hoping for. I thought that sounded better than "I'm going to have stir-fry for dinner" which is what I was really thinking about.) Anyhow, the candle staring was bearable. In fact, I was encouraged that maybe I could learn to even like the exercise. Tonight's class, however, was another dose of radical meditation:

Excerpt from the teacher's instructions (T) and my inner dialogue (I):
T: Ok, everyone come and form a circle with your legs out in front of you.
I: Everyone else here seems to be BFF's. I don't know about this snuggle up in close stuff.
T: Alright, really, come in close. We are trying to form a circle.
I: That was definitely directed at me. Who knew that lightbulb shape wasn't close enough to circle for a pass. Better scoot in a bit.
T: Now look around. Be comfortable seeing your peers. Be comfortable being seen.
I: This is a little too up close and personal. I wonder if anyone would notice if I just stare at the candle instead of making eye contact with all these strangers.
T: Now, close your eyes...
I: Oh, thank God! Finally some relief from all that soul gazing.
T:...And grab the hands of the people sitting next to you while keeping your eyes closed.
I: Ooookay, so we are all snuggled in tight here reaching for each others hands. This could go verrrry wrong.
T: Now REALLY feel the other person's hands...

After the pseudo-hand massages, we all breathed out loudly while chanting a loud Ahhhh. I'm kind of glad I go to these things alone because I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face otherwise.

Anyhow, in spite of the craziness and the uncomfortable feelings, I felt unusually calm and relaxed walking home from meditation class. Maybe this is just the medicine I need.


Anyone out there have experience with meditation? What helped you learn to quiet your mind?

Meditation Update: Midway Through the Month

September was supposed to be my month of meditation. Now that we are at the midway point, I can tell you that I failed. I tried setting an alarm. I started reading Jon Kabat-Zinn's Full Catastrophe Living. I left my yoga mat out in the livingroom to encourage a moment of deep contemplation.


From Amazon.ca

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Solution: I bought a 3-month yoga pass a few days ago.

The plan is to stop at the studio for a class on the way home from work. Apparently, I am not of the DIY variety when it comes to meditation. However, after stretching for an hour, I manage to relax and meditate at the studio. Having someone use their yogic voice to remind me "Now, relax the big toe....the ankle...the leg..." doesn't hurt, either. Bonus, I've noticed an improvement in the quality of my sleep. And - at the risk of sounding like a total hippie - I actually feel much more peaceful. Apparently, changes in the brain can be seen on imaging only one week after starting a meditation process. It'll be interesting to see what the effects of this 3-mt stint of yoga/meditation will do.

Image from the Open Clip Art Library

Meditation

As part of a promotion, I had the opportunity to attend a free meditation class. I feared I would feel like a bull in a china shop at this type of event, so I made sure to go for an 8K run in the morning and attend a yoga class held just before the meditation class. I was also sleep deprived. I figured if ever there was a day that I could sit still for an hour, this was it.

I was a little nervous entering the room. The other students seemed to know each other. I settled onto my mat, and just tried to mirror what everyone else seemed to be doing. It had been a rough day of dealing with divorce-related paperwork. My mind was racing with all the things I had meant to get done that would now be delayed until tomorrow. I was in anything but a zen-like mindspace.

The class started with a very pleasant visualization exercise. I began to relax a little. There was a very positive energy in the room. A soft breeze came in from a large window, and the evening air was very mild. The instructor explained today’s class would focus on The Four Noble Truths. I had no idea what these were, or that there were four of them. (Wikipedia link for the curious, here) “The first truth,” he began, “is that life means suffering.” He had my attention. During the decline and demise of my marriage, I had become acquainted with the concept of suffering. Prior to that, I had led a blessed existence that while characterized by many ups and downs, had never touched the despair I now knew. He discussed working toward an acceptance that everything we know in life is temporary.

The class then moved into a walking meditation. We were supposed to walk around the room and make eye contact with people while observing them without judgment. I don’t know why, but something about this exercise made me feel terribly awkward. While I was reflecting on why something so trivial would make me so uncomfortable, I realized that I had probably communicated this to the group:

It became clear that I was going to have the join the group inside the circle of yoga mats. So I did. I smiled shyly at all these people who kept acceptingly staring at me. That’s when we were told to close our eyes, and then move toward the first person we saw once we reopened them. I had a flashback to being one of the last kids picked for the dodgeball team in primary school. Everyone seemed to have a partner, except me. Mercifully, another single emerged from the crowd. “Your hearts have chosen each other tonight,” the instructor told all the meditation pairs strewn about the room, “your partner is your mirror.” Oddly enough, my partner and I did share a number of physical features. “Ok, now look into your partner’s eyes.” We did. Within a few seconds, I broke eye contact and glanced over to the instructor. Surely this can’t go on for much longer, I thought. “Reaaaaalllllyyy look deep into your partner’s eyes.” My partner did not break eye contact. I wasn’t sure what to do. It felt like some strange staring contest, kind of like we used to play at Girl Guide camp – whoever giggled first lost (generally this was me). My partner eventually smiled, and then shook her head apologetically. I smiled back, relieved. The exercise continued on for what seemed like an eternity. “Keeeep looking into your partner’s eyes. Try to peel back the layers of vulnerability. What are you seeing? What are you learning?” I fought the urge to run. My partner’s eyes stayed locked on mine. Oh my God, what IS she seeing? I thought. Can she tell I’m a mess? Can she tell I’ve been hurt? It’s been a really long time since anyone has stared into my eyes. There is nothing like having someone’s eyes bear into yours to make you feel vulnerable. I noticed my partner’s eyes mist over. Are you hurting? I wondered. I wish there was something I could do. You seem like such a nice person. The exercise continued for several more minutes. I tried to send my best thoughts of comfort and kindness over to my partner; I am sure she did the same. My trust in this gentle stranger grew. Feelings of vulnerability and angst were replaced with a quiet calm. It was actually a very healing experience in spite of my initial reticence. When the exercise ended, I smiled warmly and mouthed “thank you” to my partner. She placed her hands over her heart and bowed her head.

We very briefly crossed paths again at a later yoga class, and greeted each warmly like we were long lost friends.

Namaste, my friend. Namaste.