I find that completely logical. After all, it's trying to say something in words about an exercise in going beyond words.
I've been reading the articles on Alan Wallace's website, whilst waiting for my book to come. He mentions in one that both Indian and Chinese ancient scriptures mention independently 24 minutes as the ideal minimum time for meditation, the time it takes most people's minds to settle. I was intrigued by this, as I think it resonates with my own experience. I think I'll try 24 minutes and see if it feels a lot different from 20.
Sat for forty minutes again last night. There's been a sense the last couple days, as I've been sitting more, of just picking up where I left off. Less time used up in settling in. Also sometimes, unfortunately, less time till I wander off into unrecognized distraction :-)
tho' i tend to sit naturally for 20, i totally understand what you say dale. i am finding that starting feels like those wonderful days when i get in the pool and feel more comfortable than 'on land'; a real relief and relaxing into a natural habitat, but then i seem to find my way out of it more easily too...
I've been really struggling the past few days. Depressed, and focussed on my new dietary limitations - especially the "no caffeine, no alcohol" one. Physically, I can give them up easily. But I'm feeling sorry for myself, and I hate it when I do that. I think there is also a natural reaction simply to the fact that one has had a serious illness or accident that sets in as one is getting better. I don't feel shocked or traumatized anymore - just kind of dull and beaten up. I was dealing with a lot of things beFORE this, so it feels like too much. It helps to sit, but I am pretty distracted. And just trying to sit with all of it, holding onto my awareness that "everything changes".
Meanwhile my writing is going well and I'm appreciative for this site and all of you.
Moira - of course you are distracted. But it has to be good for both of you to spend that quiet time. Best wishes for you.
Well, Beth's post has unlocked me words. I have been struggling to keep my head above water too this past week. Desperately low at times, feeling waves of unwellness and inertia, and a clodding resentment, self-pity and feelings of victimisation. Horrible.
But, thankfully, this has not affected my willingness to sit. And when I do I get relief. The thoughts do not go away, but I glimpse a gentle light beneath them, and almost a lightness, a sense of humour as if the universe is winking at me and telling me not to take myself so seriously. Sounds mad I know, but there it is. So I'm afraid to stop doing it because I fear will really go under then.
Thank you, Beth, for your honesty. It really helped. And everyone else for just showing up.
I have not sat yet today. But I have been to church, thanks to Beth, to hear her friend Bishop Gene Robinson who is in London today, and that was quite meditative. I cried a lot. I think sitting every day makes me more present and opens my heart a little, so I felt very much the feelings of all the gay Christians around me.
Last night, went to the Buddhist centre for hour-long sitting after work. My mind chuntered relentlessly for ages and when it finally quieted I thought, ah!, and looked at my watch to see if it was 24 minutes! (no, it was 40). Sometimes I feel like a very small child. Or the proverbial monkey.
Mary and Beth, lots of love. I sometimes think that when we cope well with challenging times there is this inescapable childish expectation that it will make us feel good, but in fact it very often leaves us depleted and depressed and this is particularly hard to bear. But, by definition, usually time-limited, a part of the process to be gone through before we can recover and move on.
12 Comments:
what an amazing gift to your child to be spending this quiet breathing still time with it, and above all with yourself, moira.
today I had rain, pings and splats and drummings of it. nice.
I am still sitting each mornig but can't write about it at the moment. Don't know why, just can't.
I find that completely logical. After all, it's trying to say something in words about an exercise in going beyond words.
I've been reading the articles on Alan Wallace's website, whilst waiting for my book to come. He mentions in one that both Indian and Chinese ancient scriptures mention independently 24 minutes as the ideal minimum time for meditation, the time it takes most people's minds to settle. I was intrigued by this, as I think it resonates with my own experience. I think I'll try 24 minutes and see if it feels a lot different from 20.
Sat for 20 minutes this morning.
Sat for forty minutes again last night. There's been a sense the last couple days, as I've been sitting more, of just picking up where I left off. Less time used up in settling in. Also sometimes, unfortunately, less time till I wander off into unrecognized distraction :-)
tho' i tend to sit naturally for 20, i totally understand what you say dale. i am finding that starting feels like those wonderful days when i get in the pool and feel more comfortable than 'on land'; a real relief and relaxing into a natural habitat, but then i seem to find my way out of it more easily too...
I've been really struggling the past few days. Depressed, and focussed on my new dietary limitations - especially the "no caffeine, no alcohol" one. Physically, I can give them up easily. But I'm feeling sorry for myself, and I hate it when I do that. I think there is also a natural reaction simply to the fact that one has had a serious illness or accident that sets in as one is getting better. I don't feel shocked or traumatized anymore - just kind of dull and beaten up. I was dealing with a lot of things beFORE this, so it feels like too much. It helps to sit, but I am pretty distracted. And just trying to sit with all of it, holding onto my awareness that "everything changes".
Meanwhile my writing is going well and I'm appreciative for this site and all of you.
Moira - of course you are distracted. But it has to be good for both of you to spend that quiet time. Best wishes for you.
{{{Beth}}}
Thanks, Dale.
For what it's worth, I had a really good (24 minute!!) meditation tonight. It sure is unpredictable!
Well, Beth's post has unlocked me words. I have been struggling to keep my head above water too this past week. Desperately low at times, feeling waves of unwellness and inertia, and a clodding resentment, self-pity and feelings of victimisation. Horrible.
But, thankfully, this has not affected my willingness to sit. And when I do I get relief. The thoughts do not go away, but I glimpse a gentle light beneath them, and almost a lightness, a sense of humour as if the universe is winking at me and telling me not to take myself so seriously. Sounds mad I know, but there it is.
So I'm afraid to stop doing it because I fear will really go under then.
Thank you, Beth, for your honesty. It really helped. And everyone else for just showing up.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Sorry for deleted post:
First sentence of undeleted post should of course read 'my words'.
Last sentence of 2nd para should read 'I fear I will'.
I have not sat yet today. But I have been to church, thanks to Beth, to hear her friend Bishop Gene Robinson who is in London today, and that was quite meditative. I cried a lot. I think sitting every day makes me more present and opens my heart a little, so I felt very much the feelings of all the gay Christians around me.
Last night, went to the Buddhist centre for hour-long sitting after work. My mind chuntered relentlessly for ages and when it finally quieted I thought, ah!, and looked at my watch to see if it was 24 minutes! (no, it was 40). Sometimes I feel like a very small child. Or the proverbial monkey.
Mary and Beth, lots of love. I sometimes think that when we cope well with challenging times there is this inescapable childish expectation that it will make us feel good, but in fact it very often leaves us depleted and depressed and this is particularly hard to bear. But, by definition, usually time-limited, a part of the process to be gone through before we can recover and move on.
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