Mindfulness
meditation technique encourages the practitioner to observe
wandering thoughts as they drift through the mind. The intention is not to
get involved with the thoughts or to judge them, but simply to be aware of each
mental note as it arises.
Through mindfulness
meditation, you can see how your thoughts and feelings tend to move in
particular patterns. Over time, you can become more aware of the human tendency
to quickly judge experience as “good” or “bad” (“pleasant” or “unpleasant”).
With practice, an inner balance develops.
In some schools of
meditation, students practice a combination of concentration and mindfulness.
Many disciplines call for stillness — to a greater or lesser degree, depending
on the teacher.
As much as it pained
me to admit, meditation was not changing my life. I’d been curious about it for
years, imagining that I would magically morph from a Type A, prone to loud
laughter and occasional drama, into an ethereal entity whose “problems” would dissolve
in the face of age-old wisdom. I would wear long, flowy clothes and speak in a
gentle whisper. I would never sweat. Or swear.
But because my goals
for meditation
seemed so distant and lofty, I put it off, waiting for a time in my life when
it seemed achievable.
1:-
Great expectations
When I had my first
child, I tried meditation in hopes of reducing my anxiety
about my abilities as a mom. I tried being still. I tried focusing on my
breathing. But in less than 30 seconds, I’d be fast asleep. And when I awoke,
rather than feeling relaxed, my blood pressure skyrocketed. I had dirty dishes
to do, smelly sleepers to wash, a baby to mother. I put it off again until I
thought I could do it and stay awake at the same time.
Meanwhile my
curiosity deepened. I read books about meditation. I grilled people who went on
meditation retreats. I bought candles. Buddha figures. Meditation CDs. I became
cozy with Jon
Kabat-Zinn and Deepak
Chopra, whose books on meditating kept me company late at night in bed. I
trained for meditation the way a runner prepares for a marathon. I was going to
be an Olympic meditator … once I got started.
2:- Mutinous spine
Three children, two
Buddhas, a half-dozen CDs, any number of meditation
supplies, and 11 years later, I felt ready. I even had a gauzy skirt that
would suit the new me. I prepared my meditation table. Lit some candles. Sat
down, crossed my legs and closed my eyes.
Ouch. My legs no
longer bent that way. Hmmm. I remembered reading that sitting
cross-legged isn’t crucial, so I opened one eye and stretched my legs
straight out in front of me.
Closing my eyes once
again, I sat still. I’m sure I looked earthy in my skirt …. But rather than the
beautiful straight-backed posture of the yoga-gurus I envied, I could feel my
back bending like a question mark. “Sit tall,” I silently ordered my spine. It
refused to cooperate for more than a minute, at which point I would teeter on
my pillow like a drunk Buddha.
3:- Thought onslaught
Yoga slowly helped me train
my spine not to cave at the slightest exertion, and I felt ready to try again.
My position seemed perfect. I lit my candles and focused on my Buddha, then
closed my eyes.
“Did you remember to
pay your property taxes?” asked my brain. I imagined a broom sweeping away the
question. Then, like that crazy whack-a-gopher game at amusements parks,
another popped up. “Isn’t it your turn to prepare snack for soccer practice?”
And another. I sighed.
4:-Giving up — and getting the point
Then I came across
the words of meditation teacher Rodney Yee, who advised us
neophytes to “just sit.” It’s that simple, he insisted. Give up the
expectations. Give up the need for a certain meditation experience.
Really? It flew in
the face of my goal-oriented personality. Skeptical, I nonetheless gave it a
whirl. And guess what happened?
While I haven’t
given up my Type A propensities completely, I nonetheless am now less inclined
to let loose with a four-letter expletive. I’ve learned to listen to my body
(though it’s prone to complaining). I’m very very slowly learning to simply be
in the moment.
