Meditation

Eyes close. Breath rises and falls in an easy, surf-like rhythm. One by one, muscles loosen and relax. Internal voices slowly recede into silence. The mind calms and lifts, riding on ever deepening breaths. Stress melts. Heart and Spirit expand, moving outward and upward into the Universe, until all that remains is peace.

This is meditation.

This is also the process by which I was finally able to reclaim a semblance of control over the train wreck that was my former life. That quality -- control -- is the single most significant factor in my ongoing recovery. It is a terible feeling when one percieves that they have no control over their own life.

There is a common perception in the West that in order to find purpose, meaning, or value in life we must look beyond ourselves. While there may be merit in that, I subscribe to a somewhat more Eastern point of view in that we must first recognize that we are purposeful ... meaningful ... and valuable in and of ourselves, without need for external validation, simply because we are. In my opinion, the Western view tends to remove us from events and situations, placing us apart and in the position of a spectator; it is almost victim-like in its perspective of control: things happen to us.

For me, though, the Eastern approach makes more sense: things do not happen to us; they happen through us. We are an inseperable part of the flow. Initially, I had a difficult time grasping -- let alone accepting -- that concept; years of blaming circumstances and other people for all the ills in my life had left me highly resistant to the idea that I alone was responsible for who and what I had become.

I know so many people who, like I once did, push off their career failures on the boss or co-worker who is out to get them ... blame their divorce, seperation, or relationship break up totally on their partner ... reason that their drug or alcohol addiction is because of stress ... fault society for their criminal record ... and blame their generally shitty state of affairs on anyone or anything but themselves.

Yes, of course, forces outside of ourselves are always acting upon us, but these forces NEVER cause our behaviour -- we do.

"When you become a warrior you learn to meditate in every action." -- Nick Nolte as Socrates, from the film adaptation of Dan Millman's book, Peaceful Warrior

Meditation brought me out of spectatorship and, by directing my attention inward, placed me in the moment, clarified my personal responsibility for my life. At first, this was a daunting realization -- no, it was terrifying -- because it removed the convenience of blaming someone else. Once I surmounted that hurdle, however, I felt an incredible sense of liberation; no longer did I give my power away; I alone -- no one else -- was in control. That was enlightening. But not entirely correct.

"You don't surrender your dreams, Dan. You surrender the one thing you never had and you never will: control. Accept that you don't control what will happen to you." -- Nick Nolte as Socrates from the film adaptation of Dan Millman's book, Peaceful Warrior

Ultimately control is an illusion; we can no more control what happens to us than we can control the rising and setting of the sun. The only thing that we can control is what we do about it in this moment. That acceptance is where the real power lays. And daily meditative practice was the gateway through which it entered my life.

My meditation is dictated by any number of factors -- my mood, my goals, the time of day, location, even the weather. There are as many meditations, and as many methods of meditating as there are people who meditate. I regularly practice several types, among them:

MINDFULNESS -- I particularly like the definition put forth by John Kabat-Zinn, founder of the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction program at the University of Massachussetts Medical Center. He said,

"Mindfulness means paying attention in a particular way; on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgementally."

Beautiful ... in the present moment ... after all, all we really have is right now. Why waste it? And yet, all of us are guilty of it at times. Our lives are complex; our times are materialistic, ambitious, ego-driven, and outer-directed. We have forgotten how to see, how to listen, to be in touch with our own heart, our own Spirit, and the flow of life. No matter what we are doing -- from work, to school, to making love with our partner -- our minds are constantly being pulled in a thousand different directions, and we are disconnected from the Now.

Mindfulness is a concious, purposeful direction of our awareness to whatever we are experiencing at the moment -- whether it is simply breathing, a particular emotion, a meal that we are eating, a conversation, an argument, sex, anything. Therefore, mindfullness does not have to be constrained to a formal meditation session. Because it requires no equipment, no uniform, no special conditions, any activity done mindfully -- that is aware without judgement -- becomes a meditation unto itself.

For example, if you find yourself caught in the rain, instead of cursing your luck or the weather (about which you can do nothing anyway) take a moment to feel the rain ... to feel each individual drop on your face ... to hear its sound as it strikes the ground ... to smell it around you. Just stop. Let go of whatever distracting thoughts crowd your busy mind, turn your face to the sky and, simply ... let it rain.

You can do this if you are washing the dishes ... watching television ... preparing a meal ... doing your taxes ... or sitting in a room alone.

"All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." -- Pascal

Mindfulness has been one of the most significant methods for me in overcoming and managing depression. Now, when it hits, instead of allowing one negative thought to spiral into another, until they threaten to crush me under their weight, I simply ... let it rain. I am aware of the thoughts, the emotions; I feel them but form no attachment to them. They come into my head, I acknowledge their presence, and I let them go, like passing strangers on the street. Like drops of rain, they slide away; and like rain, the depression passes. The depression will always be there, but being mindful makes it bearable.

CANDLE -- I sit in a dark or semi-darkened room on a comfortable cushion, chair, or folded blanket on the floor. Any candle will do but I prefer the long tapered kind. I start by lighting the candle (duh). Then I settle into a comfortable posture and, closing my eyes, take several slow, deep breaths to clear the mind and, starting at the top of my head and moving downward, focus on relaxing every muscle group one by one. After several minutes, and upon starting to enter a state of deep relaxation, I slowly open my eyes to focus on the the candle flame. The "goal", such as it is, of the meditation is to follow the flickering of the candle flame, to project into the flame, all the while following my breath and releasing any errant thoughts that come to mind.

SITTING -- I prefer solitude when sitting in meditation, but it can be done virtually anywhere, at any time. For that reason, this is the easiest and most convenient meditation for me to perform. I have even meditated in a classroom full of students during between-class breaks at school. I begin by assuming the most comfortable posture possible -- if I am alone, half-lotus; back straight but relaxed; the backs of my hands resting lightly on my knees; or kneeling in a "Zen posture", with a seiza, pillow, or cushion tucked under my butt; back straight; head slightly bowed; tongue resting against the roof of the mouth; hands folded in my lap; the fingers of the right hand restling on the fingers of my left; thumbs lightly touching and forming an "O". If I am in public -- as in the aforementioned classroom -- I sit upright in my chair, back straight, head bowed, hands in the "Zen position" described above. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, evenly, and slowly, relaxing each muscle group as before. As I relax, I enter the second phase of the meditation: this is the deeper, almost trance-like aspect of the exercise. I count breaths throughout, beginning "1" on the first inhale; hold briefly; "1" again on the exhale; and repeat throughout the meditation. With each breath my mind goes deeper and deeper. Thoughts come and I allow them to go, keeping my focus always on my breath. The goal is to clear the mind of all distractions ... all thoughts ... to simply breathe and to be.

So there you have it, my practice of meditation. It is not orthodox, written in stone, or derived from any particular discipline. But it works. And it has kept me sane and off prescription medications for about the last year.

I would like to hear your stories ... of your meditative practices ... of how you cope with depression ... your perceptions of this blog and what it offers ... of how you use mindfullness in your lives ... and just of your feelings on life in general.

Until then, be mindful of yourselves, and of others.