Eleven months ago, I revived my latent meditation practice.
It was something I had considered doing throughout all of the years of latency yet took a nudge from a new friend with the backing of a virtual (to me) community to get me back to my cushion, not daily but more days than not.
This morning, as with most mornings, I kept catching myself outside of my meditation.
As in, thinking about a conversation from yesterday, contemplating a conversation to come, making mental additions to the To Do list and on and on.
Losing our point of focus in meditation – be it breath or mantra or body or what-have-you – isn’t a problem, though.
In fact, it’s exactly where the opportunity of meditation lives. It’s the awareness that we’ve strayed from the cushion that allows us to practice gently bring ourselves back to the very moment we’re in which allows us to build the muscle of being present on purpose.
One of my cherished memories of the house that Theresa and I are currently in the process of packing up for a move is looking out of my office window and seeing Theresa standing in the middle of the pallet bridge across the backyard creek that she and our friend Kim constructed.
When I opened my window to ask what she was doing, she said she was watching the light come through the tops of the trees.
This is presence on purpose.
In my on-and-off decade+ of meditation, what I’ve noticed is that being present on purpose highlights two seemingly contradictory facets of life:
- Most moments are unremarkable. Which is to say, the anxiety and depression and fear and doubt that nag at us are almost never present in the exact moment we’re in. Instead, they’re almost always in a memory of the past or anticipation of the future. Most moments are wonderfully benign.
- Most moments contain the possibility for awe. This is the part that Theresa is so excellent at embracing. Most moments include the opportunity for wonder, whether it’s at the light coming through the trees or (and this was my favorite part of the movie Thelma that we watched over the weekend) in wondering at the mechanics of all that we take for granted – that our bodies breathe, that computers work, that we can talk to people all over the world in real time.
Take a moment to contemplate how that might feel in your mind, body, and life: To become more skillful at noticing that most moments aren’t filled with anxiety or other discomforts and that most moments include opportunities to connect with how dictionary-definition awesome life is.
If meditation is something you’ve considered by felt daunted by, start by remembering that:
- You can’t be good or bad at meditation; you will however, lose focus. A lot. This is not a problem; this is just a brain being a brain.
- Meditation doesn’t require sitting; Thich Nhat Hanh taught walking meditation; mindfully doing your normal stuff, like brushing your teeth, is another great option.
- Meditation classes abound; here’s a pile of classes in December at the DC-based sangha, The Center for Mindful Living, that I’ve been joining.
I was first taught meditation when I was in middle school and had chronic stress headaches. I never quite understood what she was trying to get me to do but this approach stuck with me:
Put a little sticker – say a red dot – somewhere your eyes will land on it with some regularity. When you do notice it, use it as a reminder to take 3 deep breaths.
Hey presto, meditation!
Wishing you your own nurturing care as we head into this week that can be a lot for folks in the States – a lot of joy, a lot of frustration, a lot of baggage, a lot of emotion, sometimes some of all of it mixed together.
Remember: Most moments are mundane and all moments inevitably pass.
In poking around for one for the road (the final section of my weekly newsletter), I was moved to see this LovingKindness meditation put out by the US Department of Veteran Affairs. It’s a nice 6:30 opportunity to connect with yourself and others. You might keep this one close by as a quick way to refocus during this holiday season.
