Danny - My long, reluctant path to meditation...
Thinking about, trying or even silently saying the word "meditation" used to intimidate me. I imagined myself seated, eyes closed. Suddenly, I would be open to an uninterrupted flow from my brain. Frankly, I wasn't sure I wanted that. All those thoughts, fears, memories, anxieties, worries, any number of things I tried to keep a lid on, free, in that quiet space, to come forward and have a voice.
No telling what could happen...
Singing Lessons from a Box Fan
When I was little, I was self-conscious about my voice, but I would allow myself to sing into a running box fan in the window. I remember moving my lips close to the grill and delighting in how the sound distorted my voice. I would completely absorb myself in the process of making those exaggerated sounds and listening intently as my voice carried out into the summer time air beyond the window.
I was completely entertained, my mind, completely absorbed in the task, with an alert, inactive awareness and a relaxed body.
I was meditating, I just didn't know it.
Shhh! He's Meditating...
When I was in grade school, my friend Dave had an older brother named Tommy who meditated. He was the first person I ever met who practiced meditation, let alone every day.
I remember him as the kindest, gentlest man I had ever met.
He was maybe five-foot eight and tops, 130 pounds. He had brown straight hair that he wore just a little long in a kind of page boy cut, and it kind of bounced around his jaw line a little when he talked in his quiet, soft voice.
Being in his presence, "calm" was a palpable thing. You could feel something that radiated from his shy smiles, his soft, almost musical voice and the gentle air that seemed to stir in Tommy's wake, like he was this little boat with a light in it that you find yourself floating next to, the sea of your life suddenly calming around you, everything slowing down, settling into a peaceful little moment next to this young guy with wire rimmed glasses and a nice smile who seems to be content in a way which seemed to soak into his immediate surroundings.
He was like Mister Rogers' cool nephew, a young guy meditating back in the late 70's.
Once, Dave and I went upstairs on an early summer afternoon and opened the door to my Dave's room and found Tommy sitting on the floor in the the darkened room, the shade drawn against the sun.
His eyes were closed.
We froze. Dave was holding the door knob and I stood next to him for what seemed an eternity and looked at Tommy.
The legs of Tommy's jeans folded into this comfortable cross-legged position I had never seen before. His hands were in his lap, one palm holding the back of the other hand. His eyes were closed and his back was straight, his chin tilted a little forward and the beginning of a smile played on his face. He had a blue t-shirt on that seemed to hang from his shoulders like it was on a hanger.
The air in the room seemed unnaturally still.
"Sorry," Dave said, as we slowly closed the door and backed out into the hallway.
In that moment, I saw Tommy's eyes.
They opened and I saw them before he closed them.
He looked happy.
We quietly walked down the narrow wooden staircase, trying not to look back and we went down, trying not to make a sound.
"He's meditating," Dave said instructively over his shoulder as we turned descended.
Dave lived directly next to the Burlington Northern train line, not 200 feet from the line that goes from Aurora to Chicago.
When the trains went by, the little two-story house across the street from the tracks shook.
If I was staying at his house, in the summer in the middle of the night, you could listen to the sound of that train coming closer, the dinging noise as the gates went down one town away, then the sound growing and the gates on Cass Avenue two blocks east would go down and for what seemed like forever, the train would shake the house and the bed and you until the last car went by. Then you'd hear the gates at the next stop sound and the train would travel off into the night.
And I would lay there and listen until all I heard was a hiss and then...silence and night sounds would come into my awareness. The crickets, the hiss of cars going by and finally the sleeping sounds of the house, then my own breathing until I slid slowly into the arms of sleep.
I was meditating.
I just didn't know it at the time.
***********
Meditating?
Focusing your awareness on one thing, a word, a sound or an image, brings your attention to a point and a calm settles over you that is palpable.
A light radiates around you, like a little boat in a flat sea.
People get to that place knitting, drawing, walking, playing a musical instrument, singing into a fan or in the shower. All the roads lead to home.
A Practice
Try this:
Sit on the floor or in a chair with your feet flat. Press your hips back and arch slightly back and lift your chest until your stomach curves in. Put the bottom of the tongue on the roof of the mouth comfortably and when you need to swallow, squeeze the tongue against the roof of the mouth without uncurling it. Open your throat and feel the air flow in the throat strengthen in volume. When you breathe in, listen for the sound like your throat is a flute playing high a note and feel your ribs lift from the sides and press back with navel slightly and push up with tongue until it relaxes upside down. When you breathe out, let your side ribs relax but keep the lift in the sternum.
Slightly smile by relaxing your lips until right before they open.
Think of this spot on the back of your palette as if it is a button you push with the bottom of your tongue to turn on Conscious Awareness and activate the most powerful healing effects of the parasympathetic nervous system.
During the day, see how much you can secretly practice this simple meditation, which can be done any time.
1. Rest the bottom of your tongue comfortably against the roof of your mouth.
2. Breathe in slowly and feel your side ribs life and notice the sound of air in your throat.
3. Start to smile with just your lips.
4. Open your eyes wide.
5. Say in your mind, "I love you" as you breathe in and hey, why not say it as you breathe out, too?
6. See how long you can keep it up.
No telling what could happen...
Singing Lessons from a Box Fan
When I was little, I was self-conscious about my voice, but I would allow myself to sing into a running box fan in the window. I remember moving my lips close to the grill and delighting in how the sound distorted my voice. I would completely absorb myself in the process of making those exaggerated sounds and listening intently as my voice carried out into the summer time air beyond the window.
I was completely entertained, my mind, completely absorbed in the task, with an alert, inactive awareness and a relaxed body.
I was meditating, I just didn't know it.
Shhh! He's Meditating...
When I was in grade school, my friend Dave had an older brother named Tommy who meditated. He was the first person I ever met who practiced meditation, let alone every day.
I remember him as the kindest, gentlest man I had ever met.
He was maybe five-foot eight and tops, 130 pounds. He had brown straight hair that he wore just a little long in a kind of page boy cut, and it kind of bounced around his jaw line a little when he talked in his quiet, soft voice.
Being in his presence, "calm" was a palpable thing. You could feel something that radiated from his shy smiles, his soft, almost musical voice and the gentle air that seemed to stir in Tommy's wake, like he was this little boat with a light in it that you find yourself floating next to, the sea of your life suddenly calming around you, everything slowing down, settling into a peaceful little moment next to this young guy with wire rimmed glasses and a nice smile who seems to be content in a way which seemed to soak into his immediate surroundings.
He was like Mister Rogers' cool nephew, a young guy meditating back in the late 70's.
Once, Dave and I went upstairs on an early summer afternoon and opened the door to my Dave's room and found Tommy sitting on the floor in the the darkened room, the shade drawn against the sun.
His eyes were closed.
We froze. Dave was holding the door knob and I stood next to him for what seemed an eternity and looked at Tommy.
The legs of Tommy's jeans folded into this comfortable cross-legged position I had never seen before. His hands were in his lap, one palm holding the back of the other hand. His eyes were closed and his back was straight, his chin tilted a little forward and the beginning of a smile played on his face. He had a blue t-shirt on that seemed to hang from his shoulders like it was on a hanger.
The air in the room seemed unnaturally still.
"Sorry," Dave said, as we slowly closed the door and backed out into the hallway.
In that moment, I saw Tommy's eyes.
They opened and I saw them before he closed them.
He looked happy.
We quietly walked down the narrow wooden staircase, trying not to look back and we went down, trying not to make a sound.
"He's meditating," Dave said instructively over his shoulder as we turned descended.
Dave lived directly next to the Burlington Northern train line, not 200 feet from the line that goes from Aurora to Chicago.
When the trains went by, the little two-story house across the street from the tracks shook.
If I was staying at his house, in the summer in the middle of the night, you could listen to the sound of that train coming closer, the dinging noise as the gates went down one town away, then the sound growing and the gates on Cass Avenue two blocks east would go down and for what seemed like forever, the train would shake the house and the bed and you until the last car went by. Then you'd hear the gates at the next stop sound and the train would travel off into the night.
And I would lay there and listen until all I heard was a hiss and then...silence and night sounds would come into my awareness. The crickets, the hiss of cars going by and finally the sleeping sounds of the house, then my own breathing until I slid slowly into the arms of sleep.
I was meditating.
I just didn't know it at the time.
***********
Meditating?
Focusing your awareness on one thing, a word, a sound or an image, brings your attention to a point and a calm settles over you that is palpable.
A light radiates around you, like a little boat in a flat sea.
People get to that place knitting, drawing, walking, playing a musical instrument, singing into a fan or in the shower. All the roads lead to home.
A Practice
Try this:
Sit on the floor or in a chair with your feet flat. Press your hips back and arch slightly back and lift your chest until your stomach curves in. Put the bottom of the tongue on the roof of the mouth comfortably and when you need to swallow, squeeze the tongue against the roof of the mouth without uncurling it. Open your throat and feel the air flow in the throat strengthen in volume. When you breathe in, listen for the sound like your throat is a flute playing high a note and feel your ribs lift from the sides and press back with navel slightly and push up with tongue until it relaxes upside down. When you breathe out, let your side ribs relax but keep the lift in the sternum.
Slightly smile by relaxing your lips until right before they open.
Think of this spot on the back of your palette as if it is a button you push with the bottom of your tongue to turn on Conscious Awareness and activate the most powerful healing effects of the parasympathetic nervous system.
During the day, see how much you can secretly practice this simple meditation, which can be done any time.
1. Rest the bottom of your tongue comfortably against the roof of your mouth.
2. Breathe in slowly and feel your side ribs life and notice the sound of air in your throat.
3. Start to smile with just your lips.
4. Open your eyes wide.
5. Say in your mind, "I love you" as you breathe in and hey, why not say it as you breathe out, too?
6. See how long you can keep it up.
Kathy - The many paths to meditation...
There is no wrong way
Focusing your awareness on one thing, an activity, even as simple as knitting, brings your attention to a point and a calm settles over you that can fill you and the space around you.
Some people think that meditation is sitting cross-legged with closed eyes, but I have found that calm place knitting, gardening, taking photographs, or simply sitting outside and enjoying nature.
A focused mind that is absorbed in the activity of the moment, without thoughts of the past or future, but simply aware, is what I crave.
Meditation is a deeply personal thing that can vary from person to person and I don't necessarily think there's a right or a wrong way or an only way.
But, like a person who longs for the solitude of a forest path, the beach, or simply knitting a simple scarf, all paths to that place of inner still are valid and should be celebrated, honored...and repeated.
Focusing your awareness on one thing, an activity, even as simple as knitting, brings your attention to a point and a calm settles over you that can fill you and the space around you.
Some people think that meditation is sitting cross-legged with closed eyes, but I have found that calm place knitting, gardening, taking photographs, or simply sitting outside and enjoying nature.
A focused mind that is absorbed in the activity of the moment, without thoughts of the past or future, but simply aware, is what I crave.
Meditation is a deeply personal thing that can vary from person to person and I don't necessarily think there's a right or a wrong way or an only way.
But, like a person who longs for the solitude of a forest path, the beach, or simply knitting a simple scarf, all paths to that place of inner still are valid and should be celebrated, honored...and repeated.