Sat this morning for 15 minutes. Wanted to sit for longer, but didn’t get up in time. Somewhat pathetic, since it isn’t very hard to get up by 7. I guess this is where I need to remind myself of the 40-odd years I didn’t meditate at all, and not to be impatient...
Meanwhile, even with this imperfect practice, I am starting to note small changes in my reactions and the quality/tone of my consciousness after 6 weeks of meditating most days. Every now and then, for a few seconds, I notice how completely tensed against the world my mind and body are, and then I un-tense them for a few seconds. And today managed to resist self-righteously lecturing a colleague for not being up to my standards of event organisation – actually stopped and thought: “Was it disastrous? No. Is there any benefit in saying anything? No, she just hasn’t been doing it for 20 years like I have. Let it go.” And I did. I wish this was not an exception to a lifetime’s habit, and I’m not telling you, of course, about the numberless times today I’ve failed to be aware, but it’s a small start.
This is where I start to remember that meditation is the only thing that has ever made me feel that reactions and behaviour in adults can change. And to wonder why the hell I ever stop doing it. And, no, that still isn’t mainly why I do it. But it’s interesting, and the core question of Alan Wallace’s Shamata research project (thanks, Ruth, for the link on your blog): “How plastic, or subject to training, are the cognitive and socio-emotional skills we assess behaviourally?”
Hi. Still here. Sitting most days. funny, for me the best time remains late afternoon, before I start dinner preparations. If I miss that time, I'm not likely to sit at all - other than the moments throughout the day when I am consciously stopping for a few minutes of mindfulness.
Jean, thank you so much for your long, thoughtful comments. They really matter to me. Composing potential written pieces, or rehearsing potential conversations, are my two main distractions during meditation and always have been. Maybe this is a writers' affliction!
I posted this late last night, so in case you missed it yesterday here is a link to webcasts of the Dalai Lama at Stanford on Friday and Saturday. Off to sit now.
Yes, Jean, this to me is the exciting thing about meditation -- the prospect of actually being able to step in between an event and my compulsive reaction to it and interpose some larger awareness, and sometimes even do something different as a result. All the rest (and there's been more than I expected) is just frosting on the cake.
Sat 40 mins last night. All agitated when I sat down. It took me a good half hour to settle, but I did, finally. I've been sitting longer lately, which usually works better for me. -- Though I'm also more likely to just not sit at all if I'm pressuring myself to sit for a long time.
I've been shy about doing this, but I wanted to poke my head in and say hello. Dale, your concern touched me; thank you for that.
Found a wall, is all. Am scaling it. Meditation during this time has been extremely difficult, and I'm not sure how to overcome my mental disorder or my physical discomfort. I suspect mental quiet will come with successful meditation. Can anybody offer suggestions on holding the mind beyond physical discomfort? Right now I'm coping by using incessant distraction and escapism, but it's like living on candy and soda pop.
The answer would be different according to the kind of discomfort we're talking about -- if it's discomfort with the actual sitting, there's some things I could suggest, but I'd have to know specifics. If it's chronic pain of some kind, that's trickier.
Basically I know of two ways people deal with that, and it depends upon how bad the pain is. If you can treat it just as a distraction, then do that -- when the awareness of it comes up, just acknowledge it and return your attention to the breath. The idea isn't to ignore it or make it go away or get beyond it; it's just to keep it from sweeping you away into thinking about it.
If the pain is so insistent that you feel you can't rest your attention elsewhere at all, another thing you can try is making the pain itself your object of meditation -- just try to stay with it, experience it as fully as possible without judging it or editorializing about it in any way, and when your discover that your mind has left it, bring it back.
Ordinarily we're trying really hard to distract ourselves when we're in pain and discomfort, and it really goes against the grain to try to be present with it. I've found it helps a lot in dealing with pain, though -- a lot of my distress has more to do with trying to escape the pain, and imagining what it's going to be like in the future, and imagining what I won't be able to do because of it, than it has to do with the pain itself.
Oh, yes, it's nothing bad, just some long term discomfort rather than any real pain. Dale, thank you; I will try your suggestions. I think you are right in that the struggle against pain can be more distressing than the actual experience of it. There was a conversation here earlier about noise and visual distractions: our reactions to them, assignments of positive and negative. It seems that really echoes in everything, that things really are neither until we imbue them with a perceived quality. They simply are what they are. Ah, but I am off on a tangent. Jean, thank you for your compassion. You are, all of you, a wonderful group of people. At least, my perception tells me so.
8 Comments:
Sat this morning for 15 minutes. Wanted to sit for longer, but didn’t get up in time. Somewhat pathetic, since it isn’t very hard to get up by 7. I guess this is where I need to remind myself of the 40-odd years I didn’t meditate at all, and not to be impatient...
Meanwhile, even with this imperfect practice, I am starting to note small changes in my reactions and the quality/tone of my consciousness after 6 weeks of meditating most days. Every now and then, for a few seconds, I notice how completely tensed against the world my mind and body are, and then I un-tense them for a few seconds. And today managed to resist self-righteously lecturing a colleague for not being up to my standards of event organisation – actually stopped and thought: “Was it disastrous? No. Is there any benefit in saying anything? No, she just hasn’t been doing it for 20 years like I have. Let it go.” And I did. I wish this was not an exception to a lifetime’s habit, and I’m not telling you, of course, about the numberless times today I’ve failed to be aware, but it’s a small start.
This is where I start to remember that meditation is the only thing that has ever made me feel that reactions and behaviour in adults can change. And to wonder why the hell I ever stop doing it. And, no, that still isn’t mainly why I do it. But it’s interesting, and the core question of Alan Wallace’s Shamata research project (thanks, Ruth, for the link on your blog): “How plastic, or subject to training, are the cognitive and socio-emotional skills we assess behaviourally?”
Hi. Still here. Sitting most days. funny, for me the best time remains late afternoon, before I start dinner preparations. If I miss that time, I'm not likely to sit at all - other than the moments throughout the day when I am consciously stopping for a few minutes of mindfulness.
Jean, thank you so much for your long, thoughtful comments. They really matter to me. Composing potential written pieces, or rehearsing potential conversations, are my two main distractions during meditation and always have been. Maybe this is a writers' affliction!
I posted this late last night, so in case you missed it yesterday here is a link to webcasts of the Dalai Lama at Stanford on Friday and Saturday. Off to sit now.
Thanks Moose!
Yes, Jean, this to me is the exciting thing about meditation -- the prospect of actually being able to step in between an event and my compulsive reaction to it and interpose some larger awareness, and sometimes even do something different as a result. All the rest (and there's been more than I expected) is just frosting on the cake.
Sat 40 mins last night. All agitated when I sat down. It took me a good half hour to settle, but I did, finally. I've been sitting longer lately, which usually works better for me. -- Though I'm also more likely to just not sit at all if I'm pressuring myself to sit for a long time.
I've been shy about doing this, but I wanted to poke my head in and say hello. Dale, your concern touched me; thank you for that.
Found a wall, is all. Am scaling it. Meditation during this time has been extremely difficult, and I'm not sure how to overcome my mental disorder or my physical discomfort. I suspect mental quiet will come with successful meditation. Can anybody offer suggestions on holding the mind beyond physical discomfort? Right now I'm coping by using incessant distraction and escapism, but it's like living on candy and soda pop.
Moira, how lovely to see you again!
The answer would be different according to the kind of discomfort we're talking about -- if it's discomfort with the actual sitting, there's some things I could suggest, but I'd have to know specifics. If it's chronic pain of some kind, that's trickier.
Basically I know of two ways people deal with that, and it depends upon how bad the pain is. If you can treat it just as a distraction, then do that -- when the awareness of it comes up, just acknowledge it and return your attention to the breath. The idea isn't to ignore it or make it go away or get beyond it; it's just to keep it from sweeping you away into thinking about it.
If the pain is so insistent that you feel you can't rest your attention elsewhere at all, another thing you can try is making the pain itself your object of meditation -- just try to stay with it, experience it as fully as possible without judging it or editorializing about it in any way, and when your discover that your mind has left it, bring it back.
Ordinarily we're trying really hard to distract ourselves when we're in pain and discomfort, and it really goes against the grain to try to be present with it. I've found it helps a lot in dealing with pain, though -- a lot of my distress has more to do with trying to escape the pain, and imagining what it's going to be like in the future, and imagining what I won't be able to do because of it, than it has to do with the pain itself.
Moira, I looked at your blog. Not an easy time to meditate, I think. But a wonderful time for it. Lots of love.
Oh, yes, it's nothing bad, just some long term discomfort rather than any real pain. Dale, thank you; I will try your suggestions. I think you are right in that the struggle against pain can be more distressing than the actual experience of it. There was a conversation here earlier about noise and visual distractions: our reactions to them, assignments of positive and negative. It seems that really echoes in everything, that things really are neither until we imbue them with a perceived quality. They simply are what they are. Ah, but I am off on a tangent. Jean, thank you for your compassion. You are, all of you, a wonderful group of people. At least, my perception tells me so.
Post a Comment
<< Home