“Meditation is a practice where an individual uses a technique – such as mindfulness, or focusing their mind on a particular object, thought or activity – to train attention and awareness, and achieve a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state.” Wikipedia further suggests that in today’s world, the practice of meditation is being examined as a tool to be used in the rising struggles with mental and physical illness and debilitation.

Happily our medical and philosophical society seems to buy in to the proverbial mind-body connection, and has been doing so for quite a few years. In fact, meditation, once considered a land populated by peculiar and extreme individuals to whom self-harm was a norm, has become a part of everyday speech. Programs abound to guide a huge variety of people to the practice of meditation – from school children to cancer patients to athletes to the elderly, and so on.

But just what is meditation? Is it as vast and unattainable as it appears? I am one of those who prefers an academic approach to any subject. In a lecture, I am the one scribbling madly trying to capture every word being said (and often missing the meaning in the process; yes, I know). I am the one who wants clear definitions. I want to know what skill sets are required and how to obtain them. I want to identify progress and see an end result.

I am but one woman on the path to meditate (or rather meditating along the path) that has but one beginning and one ending – birth and death. I’d like to share a few thoughts. To me, what meditation is NOT, is sitting painfully while disallowing my mind to wander, constantly reeling in my thoughts to a static center. Also, to me, while sitting is centering and possibly calming, it is also energizing. Keep in mind that I am a novice, barely beginning this fascinating and transformative practice, and about as far from an authority on the subject as one can be. But I hope that my musings might stimulate musings of your own, openness and acceptance of what you may already be doing, or even that little nudge to search your own experience for signs of meditation and perhaps bring a practice to your daily life.

1. I have recently returned from another block of training with my teachers Josh Summers and Terry Cockburn, this one themed as “Mindfulness,” a required module in the Summers School of Yin Yoga teacher training. I emerge from this experience realizing that there are not enough years remaining to me to possibly understand the avenues, teachings and precepts that underpin such broad concepts as mindfulness, meditation, spirituality and right living. But oh what a gift to travel the path in the company of valued guides and understanding companions!
2. There seem to be unlimited ways to meditate. Let me be clear, I stand (or sit) in awe of the dedicated seekers who spend weeks, months and years, even a lifetime, with their personal guides on the path to meditation, often in unimaginable situations of hardship. For thousands of years representatives of mankind have sought more, have sought meaning, have reached deeply into soul often neglecting body in the process. To me it is irrelevant if the path is marked by The Buddha, Patanjali, Moses, Jesus or any other magnificent leader.
3. In fact, in my own experience, I am coming to believe that meditation takes on many shapes from a mere pause, to prayer, to sitting on my meditation cushion for a predesigned period of time. For example, as a child I was raised in a lovely and loving Christian religion that encouraged spending a few minutes at the beginning of each day reading a lesson from the Bible and having a conversation with God. Over the years this practice has continued and morphed into various ways to begin each day in some form of stillness, listening, balancing or centering as I prepare for the hours ahead. Is this meditation? Looking back I see examples: as a professional performer, I would stand in the wings before my entrance and pause to collect myself and dispel the fears; before entering the ring I would stand at the in-gate and find moments of calm that united my horse with me; minutes before a client walks in the door to my studio, I pause to be open and sensitive to his or her needs of the day. Are these examples of meditation?
4. In our training, we learned of both Yang and Yin  styles of meditation, recognizing that there is no right or wrong but that each and both can be practiced. Perhaps I might prefer the structure and direction, the generative aspect of Yang meditation. But the notion of an anchor to stabilize my practice does not appeal. An anchor is cold and heavy, attached to a massive chain, and lands in the mud at the bottom of the waterway. I prefer the buoyancy, grace and freedom of the Yin approach, the Perch to which I might return lightly for stability and the permission to fly away again should I chose to do so. I want something to go back to, but I also want to explore my mental edge and to be comfortable in doing so.

I close with a little story. My morning meditation today prompted me to share these thoughts with you and encourage you to sift through your own experiences. Use them as foundation for what lies ahead, gift yourself with a meditation practice that both comforts and supports as it teachers and expands your horizons. Functional. There’s that wonderful word again. Meditation, mindfulness, introspection, prayer, whatever, need be Functional!

My 20 minute morning practice: I took my seat in front of my wall of windows looking out at the snow covered landscape that lights up with morning color as the sun rises. My dog and I had already been for a walk and I had already had my first cup of strong coffee, so was ready to get down to it. But today, though physical stillness was, as usual, my go-to, my mind was active. So, I decided to “notice.” I noticed the warmth of my sleeping 65 pound dog as she tried to become one with my body. I noticed the increasing brightness beyond my closed eyelids. I began to think that just a week ago I was sitting in a studio doing just this in the company of a dear community.

Then I was drawn back to the present as I noticed that a squeaky toy was being pushed invitingly into my lap. And when that got no response, the toy was crunched repeatedly making quite a racket. Then came the sloppy kisses. Then stillness. OK, I peeked. My Chocolate Lab was upside down with nose and legs in the air hoping desperately for a belly rub. No deal.

I returned again and again to pondering what is meditation? I love stillness – physical stillness helps me find mental and emotional stillness, even if only for a brief time.

Then, without knowing how I got there, I actually was still. I had decided to post these reflections and had then let it go. Also, one of my most useful tools is to return my attention to my hands. Usually they are resting on my thighs. This morning, for perhaps the second half of my meditation period, one hand rested on my dog. When I noticed that this had happened, I settled, honoring the connection with my furry friend and companion, the one who pours loyalty and unconditional love into every minute of my day.

When our metta transitions from self, to those in our lives and finally to all living beings, surely my pup (and yours) are included. When my iPhone timer chimed and I opened my eyes, I saw that my dog was relaxed, pressed up against me, not sleeping, but awake and still. Ahhhh shared stillness.

 

See also earlier reflections on Meditation, Stillness, and a Silent Meditation Retreat, written after a week in the Berkshires with Josh Summers and Terry Cockburn as a student of the Josh Summers School of Yin Yoga. http://lindafreemanfitness.com/2018/09/