a trainee’s thoughts on meditation, pt. 1

The Advanced Teacher Trainees and I have been talking a lot about what meditation is over the past couple of months, and I’m sharing on this site their recent writings on the matter. AM writes:

I have heard people explain that the mind is like a lake and that the fluctuations of the mind are the ripples that flutter across the surface, implying that a level of awareness and stillness of the mind will bring the lake into such peace and calm that the surface of the lake is flat and tranquil so it appears to be a mirror.

In thinking about meditation and asana, I’ve come to realize that the lake metaphor described above, for me, is an over simplification of fluctuations of the mind.  This metaphor implies that that the water and the land underneath the surface of the water are still.  But realistically, the earth (as are our physical bodies) is always moving and changing.  For the earth, which is the foundation of the lake, to come into stillness means it must come into relative harmony with the forces of nature.  To bring this from a lake metaphor to the context of yogic practice in today’s reality, I believe that the fluctuations of the mind of the average person come from a more fundamental, internal source.  Much as natural disasters such as tsunami are caused by movement deep within the earth and whose source are miles away from the resulting waves, so are the originating sources that cause fluctuations of the mind.  For many of us, the quest to seek a still mind is as much about bringing awareness to, observing, and working to bring harmony to these fundamental imbalances.  In relation to the physical body, the connection is clear, as tightness and imbalance may be more readily identifiable.

Meditation is an ancient practice that, like asana, has different histories, schools of thought and techniques.  I searched “types of meditation” on the internet and found meditation through virtually any means:  dance, sex, martial arts, chanting, breathing, walking, stillness, concentration, and prayer, to name a few.  As the types of meditation vary, so do the definitions.  The Princeton Dictionary describes meditation as continuous and profound contemplation or musing on a subject or series of subjects of a deep or abstruse nature.  I’ve often heard people say they meditate “on” something.  I find this interesting, as when I sit in meditation, I do not have a particular subject matter or concept in mind.  In my experience, meditating “on” a specific concept increases my mind’s restlessness.  However, in Satchidananda’s commentary of the Yoga Sutras, he also translates “The practice of concentration on a single subject [of the use of one technique] is the best way to prevent the obstacles and their accompaniments.”  In regards to what that subject may be, Satchidananda comments “Anything can take you to your goal, because you are not concentrating on the object for the sake of the object but for the sake of your goal.”

Wikipedia states that meditation as oftentimes part of a religious tradition.  Meditation is yet another aspect of yoga that may seem to many as religion.  Much like religious prayer, meditation is surrounded by ritual – the posture, the state of mind, the mudras that may resemble hands together in prayer, the incense or candles, the chanting, etc.

While some see meditation as related to religion, others categorize it quite differently.  Many websites online consider meditation as a medical treatment that falls under the holistic or alternative therapies umbrella.

And finally, Krishnamurti defies all of these definitions with his description of meditation.  “Man, in order to escape his conflicts, has invented many forms of meditation. These have been based on desire, will, and the urge for achievement, and imply conflict and a struggle to arrive. This conscious, deliberate striving is always within the limits of a conditioned mind, and in this there is no freedom. All effort to meditate is the denial of meditation. Meditation is the ending of thought. It is only then that there is a different dimension which is beyond time… When you learn about yourself, watch yourself, watch the way you walk, how you eat, what you say, the gossip, the hate, the jealousy - if you are aware of all that in yourself, without any choice, that is part of meditation.”

Where the stories live

Last night, at Tara Brach’s Insight Meditation group, we meditated and then listened to Tara talk about hearing the stories that we tell ourselves, over and over — the stories about our lives that feel “normal,” but that keep us unhappy and restricted. She pointed out early on in her talk that when the mind is constricted, so is the body. This means that we tighten ourselves when experiencing (thinking) stress, and we escape or fight the stress by developing coping strategies that eventually settle in as constriction and repression in the body. This happens from childhood. We can only unearth these repressions if we sit with ourselves and create space for awareness to enter the body.

Tara concluded her talk by emphasizing how essential it is to catch ourselves in a story — “I’m so depressed,” “I’m weak when it comes to…,” “I never meet the right guy…,” — and feel where that story lives in the body. Where do we feel constricted or held back?

In the context of a yoga class, the question can often be answered simply. Forget the story! It’s my hamstrings! My upper back! My abdomen!

And yet, combining the physical learning we do in a yoga class with mindful meditation is powerful. Whereas Tara suggested that we listen to our bodies when we catch ourselves telling a “typical” story about ourselves, we can also feel what’s in the body first — and then notice our thoughts.

So in  yoga, you can say, OMG I’m in savasana (corpse pose) or trikonasana (triangle pose) or this friggin’ backbend and can’t relax my shoulders! What kinds of thoughts are you having right then? What are they about, and do they sound familiar? From there, sit in meditation — later that night at the end of class or after class, or the next morning before work — and observe the shoulders. And then notice the thoughts again. And then go back to yoga class in a few days and see what turns up.

This is the work of opening to consciousness. It comes in from every angle, whether you want it to or not. It comes flooding in when you give it more than one door.

what’s thinkin’

so i notice every morning in the shower that the thoughts start to creep in.  the worry, the fears, the unsettled, unanswered questions.

then i go and sit to meditate, hair still drying and mouth fresh with the taste of mint, and i stare at the screen of my mind as i would at a movie screen. i ask myself:

what’s the thinking today?

and i go from there. for 10 or up to 40 minutes, depending on the day.

it’s kind of like holding back a busting dam, that process of recognizing the thoughts in the shower in the morning before meditation as they come tumbling and stumbling in, like wayward drunks, knocking over the still sleepy docility of my otherwise calm mind, jarring me into dull annoyance.

this is why meditation works. it is an extremely simple equation in that it gives your mind someplace to go when the thinkin’ starts cookin’.

you must practice being in this space. otherwise your thoughts run you over: they will think you.

sleepy solstice

i’ve been telling students in class for the past week that if you are feeling tired, lethargic, and/or mildly (or more) morose, it’s totally normal. it’s time for the Winter Solstice.

in our hemisphere, we are on the cusp of the shortest night and longest day of the year. there is a lot of information here to describe the metaphysical, scientific, and ritual aspects of this moment.

for the body, which is comparatively depleted of energy from the sun, layers of darkness enter. this is the time when mentally we can reflect (or meditate) on the things we want to shed–just as the earth here is allowing most of its plants to die.

no matter what your asana practice is right now, be aware of your overall energy levels and practice around that. this is an important time of year to let go–no matter how you define the verb.

flatlands

in savasana, there is an excellent opportunity to navel gaze. imagine your thighs–and indeed the bones of the thighs and legs–dropping toward the ground to such a degree that the tops of the thighs feel flat and smooth.

or at least like rolling hills. calm, rolling rounds of earth.

navel gazing

so i thought today of an interpretation of this.

the energetic bodies of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd chakras live in and alongside the tailbone and legs; abdomen; and solar plexus, respectively. their physical properties are those of earth, water, and fire–or earth, oceans/waters, and the sun.

think of using your inner eye and looking down at your own sun, water, and earth–as from the sky–and determining how your own inner planet is doing at that moment. how hot the sun, how turbulent or calm and rhythmic the waters, how stable the ground.

stress is not gone

yesterday at the end of a private session with a new female client, the woman turned to me from her very first savasana (corpse pose) and said,

so, like, is this not your favorite pose? i mean, are you like the most relaxed person ever? and don’t you do this pose all the time?

i told her yes, savasana is in fact one of my favorite poses, but i don’t do it all the time, and in fact, i said,

when i’m feeling stressed out i’m actually really bad at this pose and sometimes go so far as to avoid it at the end of my practice.

this confused her. she questioned me more on how i could *not* be so totally unstressed as a result of doing yoga.

i told her that it’s not that i”m never stressed anymore–life continues to be life, and to have its natural ebbs and flows. rather, i find myself able to relax more quickly, more precisely, and more deeply.

the greatest advantage of yoga in this context, i told her, is that you begin to witness the coming stress like an arriving storm. just as you put on a raincoat, or get an umbrella, or even stay inside until the storm blows over, you observe yourself in a stressed-out state and access the breath, or do a lengthening pose here and a strengthening pose there.

using these yogic tools helps you move away from the stress response in a way that is difficult to do otherwise.

most important, practice is not at all about doing the poses *better*. it is instead about witnessing the effects the poses have on you more and more clearly.

growth

at boundless yoga, there is a small plant growing in the corner of our bathroom, which is a room with no windows. i worried about this plant when we first put it there a few months ago, wondering if it would get enough light to grow.

the plant has actually grown a lot in this corner, defying my expectations and mitigating my concern. using virtually no sunlight (save the bit that makes it in), it propels itself upward into a larger, sturdier plant by losing some, but not all, leaves on the lower part of the stem. this seems to give the plant a heightened abililty to create bigger, greener, and lusher leaves at the the top.

it’s quite beautiful.

medicatation

i was just thinking yesterday that the english words “meditation” and “medication” are separated by only one letter. they both come from Latin:

[Origin: 1550–60; < L medit?tus, ptp. of medit?r? to meditate, contemplate, plan]

[Origin: 1615–25; < L medic?tus medicated (ptp. of medic?re), healed (ptp. of medic?r?). See medical, -ate1]

my theory was there existed an original similarity, but in honesty i don’t see it.

what interested me was discovering that the original meaning of medicated is defined by one word, “healed.” i wondered at that point how many people taking medication today feel healed by the medication they take.

that line of thinking led me further to ask the question i ask my energy clients all the time:

what does it mean to heal? to “be” healed?

one conclusion: if we meditated more, we’d medicate less.

eyeing nirvana

last night in yoga class with john schumacher at unity woods, i noticed in meditation how the eyes either help or hinder.

i meditate almost every day. as with last night, i often catch myself in a thought or series of thoughts that i can immediately map into an experience of stress or discontent in my body. worry is a big one: i suddenly realize i’m fretting about a conversation i’ve just had with my mother, or thinking about finances, and i can feel tension in my shoulders and a swirly, uncomfortable heat in my solar plexus.

but last night, noticing myself running along one of these stress roads, i experienced the eyes. they, too, were, running all over the place: rolling around and looking for more and more images as my mind produced the thoughts.

we are creatures of habit and, to support a system designed to live on patterns, the eyes mimic the patterns our eyes follow in response to thoughts during our waking days. indeed, if you watch someone sleep, their eyes roll around to mirror the images the brain produces in its yin state.

so, in meditation at the end of class last night, i observed my eyes relaxing, and poof! at least for a few minutes, i forgot to think. this created a state of calm i observed for some time after.