Meditation for Beginners, Part 3: So long, left brain.

So for the past month, I've been attending this meditation class.  Each time I go in, I learn something new about myself, about my teacher, about the way the world works and about our crazy connection to it all.

This morning, I was not in the mood to learn anything.

I was cranky.  Headache-y.  I felt a little like this.  It was as if all of my emotions, at one time (during meditation class) a calm, tranquil sea, had frozen into hard, icy spikes.  If you were a car in front of me this morning who was driving just a little too slow for my liking, I mentally stabbed you with my Emotion Spikes.

So when I walked into the studio, I was already feeling apprehensive.  There was Want to be Cool like Kelly! Kelly, sitting at the check-in desk looking serene and cheerful and happy to see everybody.  There were my fellow meditators, obediently waiting on their mats, getting a head start by closing their eyes and channeling the dharma.

I dropped my mat on the ground.  It made a hard slap against the floor.

And then, a funny thing happened.

For whatever reason ... I felt like crying.  Right there in the middle of the meditation room.

I felt bad for having stomped into the studio all pissed off.  I felt guilty for shoving that bad energy in with me.  "So you've had a rough week," I thought.  "Do you have to unleash it on these poor, unsuspecting people?"

Just before I had gotten into my car this morning, I had read my daily horoscope.  It had said that today was my day to get a "do-over."  I'm not sure if it was referring to the generally poor attitude I brought with me into meditation class, but I decided to give it a shot.  I quietly smoothed my mat down, retrieved some blankets, and set them down like a normal, grownup person. 

"Mahamudra" meditation, the one we are studying in this class, is also known as "end of suffering" meditation.  The Mahamudra Chant is particularly special, because it is traditionally the chant that any Tibetan Lama would whisper to themselves before teaching:

See anything

Brought about by causes

As like a star,

An obstruction of the eye,

A lamp, an illusion,

The dew, or a bubble;

A dream, or lightning,

Or else a cloud.

Besides reflecting on nature, these images are also to remind the speaker of qualities like impermanence and emptiness.  As you go deeper into the meditation, the goal is to start recognizing that life is always changing, and that nothing is permanent (like clouds or dreams). 

As I began to meditate, I felt all this tightness around my throat.  And then, as I breathed in and out, it slowly loosened.

"But hey, I still hurt!" said my right leg, which was falling asleep.

"Shh," I said gently to it. "You are pure sensation, nothing more."

"Um ... whatever you say," said my right leg, "you're the one who isn't going to be able to WALK."

I decided to focus my attention elsewhere.  Just then, Kelly said something like, "feel yourself getting bigger, more expansive."  And I noticed my hands.

I've talked about my hands before, and the educational power they have over the rest of me, including my mind.  It's hard to explain, but it's like my hands are older and wiser than I am.  They know things.  Does that sound nuts?  Probably.  But stay with me here.

I felt my hands, like ... dissolve.  During meditation.

It was as if they were there, and then?  They weren't.  I cognitively knew that my hands were still attached to my body.  But sensory-wise, I stopped feeling them for a moment.

It was the most extraordinary feeling.

Scientist Jill Bolte Taylor gave a TED talk a few years ago, about having a massive stroke when a blood vessel exploded in the left half of her brain.  Oddly, she describes it as one of the best experiences she's ever had.

That's because Jill got to spend time in the right hemisphere of her brain, that part of our brain that is always present, always connected to the whole, and lacks an "I" point-of-view. Now, I know I didn't have a stroke this morning. But I think I got a small taste of what Jill is talking about.

(I also think I had my "I saw JAY-sus!" conversion moment in meditation today, thanks to those weird, numbing hands.)

If you have time, I encourage you to carve out some time and watch Jill's whole talk below.  God bless you, right brain!

Meditation for Beginners, Part 2: Cool Wantings.

In almost every extracurricular activity I had undertaken as an grown-up, I have a tendency to hero worship the teacher.  Today was only my second day in Meditation Class, and already I notice it happening with my meditation teacher, Kelly.

"Kelly is so COOL," I'll sigh silently to myself.  

"I know," says another voice inside my head.  "Maybe you can be friends!!"

"You think?" says the original voice.  "I don't think I'm COOL enough."

I bring this up because this morning in meditation, I very strongly recognized how much want plays a major theme in my thoughts.  Basically, every thought I think in meditation falls into two categories: Things I want, and things I have but do not want.

The trouble began even before Kelly started talking.  We were setting out our blankets and yoga mats, arranging little meditation spots on the floor for ourselves.  I saw a girl with an awesome arm tattoo.

"I want an arm tattoo," I thought.

Then, in walked a woman with tawny, tan skin all over her body.

"I want tan skin," I thought.

Just behind her was her friend, a really beautiful, extremely pale girl with an ivory face.

"I want an ivory face," I thought.

My wanting is this free-floating thing that lands on shiny new objects whenever presented the chance, seemingly without any inherent will of its own.  Sometimes it is repulsed and moves in the opposite direction, like whenever Ross makes something with fish sauce, and because I know where fish sauce comes from (rotting, putrid fish carcasses) my mind immediately announces: "DO NOT WANT."

Then Kelly started talking, like she does before each meditation class, and I instantly felt the Want to be Cool like Kelly! feeling rise up.

"Good posture will help you sit for longer in meditation, I've been known to sit for eight hours a day," she said.

"I want to sit for eight hours!" I thought.

"So I was dropping my son off at school yesterday ... " she said. 

"I want a son!" I thought.

Ok ok, she actually said those things last week.  But I was thinking about them again in this morning, while she was talking and doing her Kelly thing, as I mentally checked off a list of everything she's ever said that is cool and that I want also.  

The most persistent, loud wanting thought I ever have is wanting to be a writer.  A real writer.  The kind of writer with a book and fancy magazine articles and high literary awards and maybe retreats to the MacDowell Colony that I can thank/brag about later in my book's Acknowledgement Page.  "Thank you especially to the MacDowell Colony, for providing me a quiet cabin in the woods where I could really write."

But then at the end of Meditation Class today, Kelly said the coolest thing ever.  It seemed profoundly simple at the time, but now that I'm sitting here thinking about it, it's getting more slippery than it was this morning.  So I'll try to quote her verbatim.

"Do you all know Byron?  Byron Katie?" Kelly said. "I love Byron Katie.  She's one of my role models.  Anyway!  She came out of this deep depression a few years ago, and had a profound spiritual awakening, and talks about this revelation she had about her thoughts and thinking.  She realized that she was NOT thinking, she was being thunk."

What this means is that we're not exactly in control of our thoughts, even though it feels like we are.  (I think.)

Rather, our thoughts are shaped my external forces, like culture and societal rules and our families and our friends.  But mostly society.  And that this big, soupy mass of society washes through our minds and programs the way we think about things.

For example: If I were living in 500 BC rather than 2011, I wouldn't care about becoming a famous and important writer.  Because almost nobody read.  Instead, I would probably care about becoming a basket weaver, and not only that, but the very best, most artistic, most respected basket weaver I could possibly be.  I would have the most badass baskets in the village.  

And then, when my village created an award for baskets, the PEN/Faulkner Award for Outstanding Achievement in Baskets, I would wring my hands and stress out and go to bars with my basket-weaving friends and try to get them drunk so they would tell me all their basket secrets.  "Oh, so you don't use straw?" I'd ask, and then I'd go home and steal their idea and apply it to my own basket.  Then, I'd submit my basket for the award and wait on pins and needles for the results, while pretending not to care at all.  "Oh, Outstanding Achievement in Baskets?" I'd say.  "Somewhat pedestrian ... that."

This all came to me during my meditation this morning ... when ... I think we're not supposed to be thinking.

But you know what?  A side effect of this meditation business (besides getting to spend time with Want to be Cool like Kelly! Kelly) is that it's actually making my thoughts clearer.  It's oddly easy to write after I come home from class.

And that's pretty cool.

Meditation for Beginners.

After months and months of telling Ross, "you know what I really need to do?  Meditation," I got the opportunity to do some this morning.

As I was going to bed last night, I checked my email one last time, and saw a group invitation to a six-week meditation course held at my yoga studio.  It started the next morning.  I thought, "this is a sign."

So I woke up earlier than normal, schlepped myself to the studio, and sat down for some good old-fashioned Mahamudra chanting.  Each class is an hour and fifteen minutes, with a little intention-setting talk at the beginning by our teacher, and a short time at the end for sharing and dedication.

During the vast expanse of time in between, we meditate.

Now I know this comes as a surprise to exactly no one, but I have a LOT of thoughts.  Really, really persistent ones.  Thoughts about my past, my future, my hunger level, work, whether it's time to dye my hair again, what my contribution to society should be, if I feel fat, my bank account, what so-and-so thinks of me, if I'll get to be a professional aerial silks dancer someday, if it really is possible to join the circus, if it's possible to join the circus in your thirties, clothes I'm supposed to pick up from the tailor, people's birthdays, how funny it was that one time I was walking around with only one sunglasses lens in the frames and didn't realize it, the trajectory of my career, the president, places I want to travel, my taxes, back to my past and future.

So I've known for a long time that I desperately need meditation, to quiet my mind and be able to rest inside the present moment.  I've also known that meditation is a lot harder than it looks.  But what I didn't know was that my mind is apparently a five year old.

Here is a sample of our morning meditation dialogue a few hours ago:

Me: (Quietly focuses on breathing)

Mind: This is so fun!

Me: Good. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself.

Mind: I'm just going to hang out here and let you do your thing ...

Me: Thanks.  Talk to you later.

Mind.  Doo do doo ... hey.  My head itches!

Me: It's ok.

Mind: I wonder if you have lice!!

Me: Well if I do, we can deal with that later.

Mind: Ok José!  No problem.  Way to be calm in the face of potential head bugs.  Oh, one more thing,

Me:  ... yes?

Mind: You know you're on your period now, right?  What if you, like, had your period all over the floor!  It would get on your mat and on your blanket and it would be soooo embarrassing!

Me: Seeing as how there are about 20 women in this class, I'm sure everybody would understand.

Mind: I think you're overestimating your company here.

Me:  ------------

Meditation Teacher: Expand your attention now from your breath, to encompass your emotions.

Mind: OH BOY!  Did you hear that??  Emotions!  Let's be happy for a minute!  Here I'll show you:

Me: That's really ok-

Mind: Cartwheel, back handspring, stick the landing!  Also, you did a triple axle!!  Because you were on ice skates!!!

Me: ... good job.

Mind: And now, we are SAAAD.  Big FROWNY FACE.  Sad sad sad!  Oh poor me, poor little Tolly, I'm so upset and saaaaad ...

Me: Alright, listen mind.  I appreciate your ability to make me happy, to make me sad, to generate emotions at will.  But can you please be a little quieter about it?  Because I am seriously trying to focus on my breath here, and you are just a tiny bit distracting.

Mind: (Makes tears spring to eyes)

Me: Ok, what's going on?

Mind: You hurt my feelings a little.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry.

Mind: Well ... it's ok.  Hey.  I was thinking this would make a really neat blog post when you get home.  So we have to remember everything!  Ok!  I'm going to be like a Xerox machine!  Or a secretary!  Whatever image you prefer, really!

... And on and on it went, for however long we meditated.

I wasn't keeping the time, but it was long enough to make my right leg fall asleep, and of course my mind had a field day with that. 

I (me and my mind, both of us) KNOW this is a good thing, this guided group meditation.

But as evidenced by my experience today, it's also going to be extremely challenging.  Sigh.

I'll keep you posted on progress, ok Reader?