Watching the Monkey Mind
Six years I’ve been meditating and I have mornings like this: I sit in my chair. I squirm. I notice that my feet are cold and I go grab a blanket. There. That’s better. Breathe deeply. Aaah, that feels so good. So relaxing. I’m kind of hungry. Should I go grab a bowl of cereal first? I don’t want to get the shakes. I hate the shakes. But if I go downstairs, I will get distracted.
Okay, I can get through the meditation without eating first. Okay. Breathe. Pay attention to the body as it is always in the present. My sinuses feel kind of clogged this morning. Usually a good meditation helps. I wish Chris would meditate-it would really help with her chronic sinus infections. I wonder how she is doing these days. Maybe I should call her for a get together. Should we invite the kids or just spend time alone? Did Laura thank her for the Valentine she sent? I wonder if Laura got my Valentine package. Maybe she didn’t go to her mailbox because she had a bunch of tests. I wonder how she did on her test. I’ll e-mail her today.
In that brief ten seconds, my mind bounces like a monkey swinging from branch to branch. I come back to the breath and watch it on the inhale as it moves like a wave comes to the shore. I exhale and watch it move out into the endless expanse just like a wave that returns to the sea. Calm. Still. Timeless.
These days, I rarely attempt to explain my reasons for meditating. When I first began, I wanted to tell everyone about this miracle cure for that which ales you. I feel better, I would say. My visits to the doctor are almost nil, I would insist. I am less stressed. My family likes me better! The dog likes me better! Yet, in that telling, I was selling, and meditation is all about letting go and letting it be. The more I meditated, the less I felt the old need to control and push.
Why is meditation so compelling? Because it is not about squashing or extinguishing unpleasant thoughts. It is about sitting still long enough to know that you are even having them. They are no longer wild, unmanageable runaways. And right there, when you really acknowledge them, you have a choice. You can let them take over, becoming bigger and more powerful while you become more anxiety ridden and reactive.
OR, you can pay close attention to the nature of them and then consciously let them go and return to your breath. After all, the breath is the only thing that is now. You can’t breathe yesterday’s breath or tomorrow’s breath. This is it. This is real. You’ll be surprised.
Just as thoughts come and go, stress comes and goes, laughter comes and goes, anger comes and goes, and pleasure comes and goes. Yet, with meditation/mindful awareness, they come and go with a deeper level of awareness so they don’t possess such a tenacious hold on us. They are transitory! With that awareness, we act less on autopilot and more with clear and focused intention. Do you really remember what ticked you off in that moment last fall? It’s over. Now that you know this, you can mindfully choose your actions. They no longer choose you. This is meditation.
Michelle Burford, an initially reluctant meditator writes in Oprah, “You don’t have to Windex your big mess the minute you splatter it. Just get up and step to the right. Stand there. Notice how your feet feel on the ground. Notice that you’re still above ground. Take that news in. Or resist it and settle into your misery, then notice that’s what you’re doing. Decide you won’t judge yourself for judging yourself. Judge yourself some more, then cut it out again. Breathe in, breathe out.” When stressful thoughts come in, watch them, thank them for their opinion, and then let them go.
After meditating for awhile, I noticed something else. I actually began to taste my dinner before the whole thing was gone. I started to notice that the moon on my morning and evening walks moves across the sky on a very predictable path. The house that I pass on my daily drive has a purple door. Honest. I had never noticed. Too busy getting from Point A to Point B. And, there are two morning doves who live on my porch arbor. I wonder how long they have lived there.
Now, for those who say, “I can’t do it,” I say three things. One, no meditation is a bad meditation. Just doing it each day begins to open you up to new insights. It might be as simple as whenever you sit still, you notice that your neck is always stiff. Or that your breath is short and shallow.
Second, if you play tennis for the very first time, you know you aren’t going to be Martina the first time out. Be patient with yourself. It just takes some practice.
Third, if the sitting is killing you, start with a walking meditation. Begin to notice your legs. Can you feel them? How are the feet? Notice your breath when you walk. See if it has its own kind of rhythm. Take in the crisp air and notice the birds who are returning to their northern homes.
You can do this. I promise. They are teaching it to preschoolers these days because they notice the kids pay better attention. A lovely idea.
I still eat fast. I still snap at my kids and get mad at the dog. And, I still am frustrated by people who bellow into their cell phones at Starbucks when I am drinking a latte. The difference is this: I notice my judgments and patterns of thought. I catch myself jamming in a cookie and actually try to slow down and taste it. I am faster on the uptake. It’s empowering and humbling all at the same time. There is so much to take in. There is so much I missed as I rushed through my life.
I can actually fully live this life that I am living. The monkey in my mind moves a bit more slowly these days. I breathe the same air as those who I love and those whom I have never met. As the breath comes and goes, I am reminded of the ever changing nature of things. And right in between those breaths, I discover time and space for a lovely moment of gratitude.