Boat Across the River
Just another WordPress.com weblogArchive for Meditation
Moments in Time
It’s funny to me that it’s so difficult for a baby to learn how to crawl…to crawl! Everything we do takes so much effort. I watch my son rolling around the carpet — the boundaries of this little area rug are the literal boundaries of his range of motion. I always think to myself, “My parents watched me like this. My grandparents watched my parents like this.” My grandparents were little babies for the exact same amount of time as my son will be a baby. I think it’s…something like arrogant to act like the present is the only time that exists. I think all moments in time are equal in importance and existence. Except maybe the ones that we regret, wish we could take back, and for which we have asked someone for forgiveness.
Right now, I’m thinking of lives as bars on a graph, that are all layered over on top of each other, one over the other. I can’t really explain my thought…but not as bars that are end to end, but as bars (of time) layered on top of each other. So that the graph does not extend forward, but outward, in a three dimensional way. Now I’m thinking of time as a billion billion still photographs lying all over a table. I think that lives are less like video tapes than they are like still frames of every moment, captured forever.
Sitting — Part 2
When I close my eyes,
first I see
a vibrating filament,
that with effort
I can cause to vibrate
in one place.
Vibrating and still
all at once.
Then I see a soft blanket,
smoothed of any wrinkles.
Like I’ve calmed the surface
of the sea.
Sitting — Part 1
Sitting on a cushion
there occurs to me
the notion
that my spine
is a stem,
my head
a poofy flower…
Moment to Breathe
I’m always running around;
there’s so much to do, I know
I’m forgetting to breathe.
It feels so good
when I do remember.
Do you ever feel like your lungs
are in the way
of breathing?
Like they’re holding
you back?
I want to breathe in
a breath
that never ends!
Wordy
Spent a lot of time at the Meeting House today (i.e. church). There were all kinds of events as the season of Advent begins. As I sat in the pew holding my baby son, (my daughter was down the hall rehearsing for her role as the literal star of the show that pointed the way to Baby Jesus), I gazed at the books in front of me that rested on their special little rack. On the covers of these books read words like “hymns,” and “psalms”. I wonder what it is about words with silent letters that make them seem even more beautiful. The letters aren’t pronounced, so why should their presence make a word sound differently? It’s psychological I guess, but that “n” and “p” make those words so delicate and…I’ll say poignant, just to bring up another one of those words that I love.
Looking around the room today, another word that came to mind was “together”. I could meditate and pray alone, and often do. Sitting in extended silence with a roomful of people, though, is a different experience. Even truer to reality, perhaps. We are in this together, all of us, whether we like it or not! Some of the people we are here in this life with can be so frustrating, but we belong to each other just the same. Being together in silent prayer with like-minded people, however, leaves me with such a peaceful feeling. It feels so true. Like…how things really are, all the time. Like how things are for real.
I think of a television show I have been watching lately on the Biography channel called “I Survived…Beyond and Back”. These people have technically died for anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes. On the show they recount their experiences while dead. It’s riveting, I’ve got to say. J. is suspicious, which is what I count on him for!, suggesting that some of these people may either be lying or misinterpreting what happened to them. I have no reason to suspect either of those things. I don’t claim to know more about death than someone who has actually died, and I prefer to believe that these people – often moved to tears in the telling of their stories and whose lives have often done 180 degree turns after survival – are telling the truth.
One woman died on the operating table in a hospital and she tells about rising up out of her body and looking down on the doctors and nurses trying to save her life. She was able to tell them the exact conversation they were having while she was flatlined. She describes seeing some kind of shimmery “chords” going from one person to the next such that they were all connected. It created an effect that looked something like a spider web. The chords appeared to her to go from one person’s chest to another’s, and she was able to know what each person was thinking and feeling. Another aspect of this show that is so fascinating to me is that I have sometimes seen images like this flash in front of my eyes when I meditate – that is, during several of these shows I have been able to say, “Yes! I’ve seen what you’re talking about!” But I might have thought at the time that it was just randomness popping into my head for no reason.
Together…moreso than we even realize I think.
Practicing for What?
At our Quaker Meeting the other day, a well spoken young woman stood up and commented that it’s been helpful to her to think of her spiritual practice as if she was practicing the piano. As a former swimmer, I have thought of my spiritual practice as something similar to swim practice. When you practice kindness, being slow to anger and slow to speak, breathing in and out, living in the moment you are getting ready…but for what? The young lady pointed out that sometimes it is hard to know what you are practicing for. A good point. I would say that spiritually we are practicing for right now — it is simultaneously preparation for the event and the ”event” itself . For life itself.
Our son was recently born! It has been a joy to welcome him to this life, and into our lives. It is also quite an adjustment to go from one child to two. I have been working with a constant feeling of guilt because when I’m spending time with one child, I am not paying as much attention to the other! It’s definitely a balancing act. Not to mention all the house work that needs to be done to keep things running in a somewhat orderly fashion. The day can feel very, very long sometimes. The other morning, both kids were up at seven, and my nearly three year old daughter has recently given up napping. I was sitting on the couch feeling completely overwhelmed. Suddenly I remembered to breathe. I do not have time to sit and meditate anymore. There simply is not one moment to myself right now except for the four hours of sleep I get at night. And those are not really to myself either, as I listen in the back of my mind for a hungry little baby. But sitting on the couch, it popped into my head to breathe, and I pictured the breath moving up through my third eye, and pictured a blue lotus flower there between my eyes, and it was very calming. I was able to relax and enjoy my impossibly small, new little baby, and my daughter making up dances and songs to perform on her trampoline. If I keep breathing through the moments of exhaustion and frustration, I can turn any moment into a spiritual moment. I can break down the long hours of a sleepless day into a thousand more peaceful and enjoyable moments.
I realized that my meditation will have to be all the time, now, not sitting on a cushion.
This is what I’ve been practicing for!
“Travelin’ Thru”
I’ve been reading a lot lately — not writing a whole lot. The following excerpt from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Essays: First Series struck a chord with me, especially in light of my previous post about wanting to travel more. The essay in particular from which these lines come — Self Reliance — is apparently listed on President Obama’s Facebook page as one of his favorite reads. So there you go. I have also been enjoying that essay a lot and have only found a couple things with which I disagree. One is that Emerson mentions his belief that he has no responsibility to the beggar on the street or to the vast number of charities trying to collect money from him. I think if someone asks me for money on the street, I should give him a dollar at least. And I think we should pick a few charities to give to regularly as well. Maybe Emerson meant that you can’t give to every charity that comes calling, because that’s true. I’d have nothing left with which to support myself, and would become a charity case myself. I also disagree that travelling has nothing to teach us. I do agree though with many of his words here, especially that our society fosters restlessness, and that our minds are always travelling even when our bodies are not.
I also love the lines that “the soul is no traveller” and that when the wise man is abroad he “is at home still.” I was meditating the other day and had been thinking about the Buddhist concept of no self. When I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind, what popped into my head was the image of “me” in a sticky web of sorts; the material that glued my “self” in place was my relationships with other beings. The way our experiences and stories all fit together was what held the me in place and made me, me. When those relationships are gone, maybe the me I thought I was will disappear…but I also don’t think those relationships do ever disappear. So that on some level, the me of this lifetime will always exist once I find the love that existed in this story I am currently living. If I can find those loving relationships, I will find the self from this experience in particular. Then what popped into my head — and this was before I read the words by Emerson — was that no matter where I travelled, I would always be in the same place. My self would always reside in the same place, the same spot on the bookshelf, no matter where in the universe my body happened to be. I am here, no matter where I am.
Well, enough about that. Here’s Emerson:
It is for want of self-culture that the superstition of Travelling…retains its fascination for all educated Americans. They who made England, Italy, or Greece venerable in the imagination did so by sticking fast where they were, like an axis of the earth. In manly hours we feel that duty is our place. The soul is no traveller; the wise man stays at home, and when his necessities, his duties, on any occasion call him from his house, or into foreign soil, he is at home still…
He who travels to be amused, or to get somewhat which he does not carry, travels away from himself, and grows old even in youth among old things…
Travelling is a fool’s paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at Rome I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk…and at last wake up in [Italy] and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical that I fled from…
But the rage of travelling is a symptom of a deeper unsoundness affecting the whole intellectual action. The intellect is vagabond, and our system of education fosters restlessness. Our minds travel when our bodies are forced to stay home.
Fields of Gold
I continue to have to share the instruction of English credits with another, much younger, teacher. And she continues to slowly drive me crazy. She will be gone by the end of the year, having essentially been fired, but she seems determined to take the rest of us down with her. Really, it’s sad, and I do have compassion for her and her situation. She never had a role model growing up and so she had to parent herself, etc., etc., resulting in one of the most arrogant people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and working with.
I have to wonder, though. Was I so arrogant in my youth? I know that in some ways I was. I remember how self-assured I was, and how I trusted no one better than I trusted myself. Would I have listened to more experienced teachers? Or did I six years ago? I know in some ways I was not so different from her. I would like to think that I had a willingness to learn from others…I must have because I am not at all the same person or teacher that I was. I hold teaching veterans in a different and more respectful light now. I’ve only been doing this for six years, and some of these people are in their third decade. I remember my principal telling me in my second year of teaching, no doubt after some cocky remark from me, “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.” True enough. I can’t imagine being stable enough, committed enough, content enough, to stick with one job for thirty years.
So what I’m saying is I should not judge her so harshly. Yesterday, though, a counselor/trusted friend reported to me that my fellow English teacher had been complaining about the way I do things to a group of other teachers. Her choice of words and complaints and unwillingness to speak with me about her issues bother me a lot. Last week she bought me a nice piece of jewelry as a thank you gift for mentoring her this year. Why bother with this if you are just going to turn around and openly trash me to other teachers? Should I confront her about this and explain to her why I do things the way I do? Or should I just let it, and her, go with the fast approaching last day of school?
A few weeks ago, these things were bothering me even more than they are now. I sat down to meditate. I had just seen some nice art earlier that day; one painting was of a farm field, golden stalks shining in the sun. I had been sitting for forty-five minutes, focusing on feeling love, and coming from a place of love in my approach with my co-worker. In the last ten minutes of sitting, everything seemed to get lighter and brighter and the back of my eyelids looked just like a huge golden field to me. I definitely felt a lightening of my strong emotions, and felt more loving towards people. I think the problem is that I rarely have the energy these days to sit and not think, as funny as that sounds! I’ve got to get back into my practice of sitting every day if I want to really feel consistently better about these things that are so difficult for me. I think for me, it really takes a daily re-focus for me to keep my balance. So that’s the goal.
Cool Kids
I have been doing a huge project with my students this semester, with all the lessons centering around our local river. This thing has involved two field trips, one a canoe trip on the river, and another a visit to our local university next to which the same river runs. I almost lost a tooth canoeing when one of my kids slammed me in the mouth with her paddle…all’s well that ends well. At the university, we walked through campus, getting a little tour of my alma mater, and then we walked down through the woods to the river. I had the kids sit by the river by themselves and in silence while they wrote in little notebooks for fifteen minutes. I want to share some of the things that they wrote:
Student One: It’s so hard to write about life or your future when you can’t see what’s ahead and don’t want to look back. I’m glad I came on this trip. I’ve been to this college at least a hundred times, but I’ve never been to this spot. It’s a soothing place to be. Being here opens my mind and lets thoughts pour in…Maybe there’s a blessing for us in the future.
Student Two: I can see myself here at this college, being out here just enjoying it, but I don’t want to go to college. This place here at the river makes me want to get out more and do lots of stuff. It inspires me to want to get out and just have fun.
Student Three: You know, sometimes I wish that my life was like the river – soft and calm, or maybe like the soft soil that blankets the earth, or even the evening breeze that blows on a Fall day…So the question occurs to me: Why is life so hard? Why can’t my life be as simple as the elements of the earth? And as an answer to that, I feel that to the elements of the earth there are greater components than what we see. So as a result, it becomes difficult, but like the elements there is a deeper meaning than what is actually seen. That is my reasoning why life is so hard.
Student Four: This is my first time sitting out by a river in complete silence…it is wonderful to just hear the birds and the water. It’s cool to just look out and see nothing but water banks and trees and river, to feel the sun and the wind. I love it.
Student Five: Life is like the river that flows through things. Life hits us hard and when it does we cry and it just flows away. The water comes from heaven and the river hits the rocks hard, but then it flows away. Sometimes there is time for us to stay still and not move. That time is the time where old memories come to mind. You say to yourself, I wish that I could turn back time. I wish everything could be the same, but sometimes it’s not. It gets worse. And that time is the time where you think to yourself, “Man, I wish my special person could be here to help me react or answer my question.” We just have to keep that memory in us to enjoy later on in life with others. Sometimes you love doing something, but the one who is higher than you takes it away from you and all you can do is smile and not show you’re angry or sad. Be strong for others.
Student Six: Today feels like I’m alive because it feels so good and warm. I want to stay here forever and listen to the water flow away. Every tree has a different color. Most of the leaves have fallen down. Nine of us are sitting writing and eating cookies and most of the others are yelling over behind the trees and chasing each other. I like the sounds they make and the way the water moves. It feels like you can sit here forever. Listen to it; everything is peaceful. I wish the city would be like this. You can feel the wind going into your skin…I have nothing in my mind right now other than this peaceful place. The other kids are coming back now. I want to stay forever, you know, but after awhile we will go.
Student Seven: My path, where I’m going to end up, is like the water that I see. Flowing without an ending. How the sun beams on the water! It’s how the spotlight will beam on me. My impact on others will be like the waves I see; I will touch one and the rest will be touched by me. And my determination to do as I speak is just like how the water passes by the rocks; it reminds me of the obstacles and how I squeezed by them to reach my destination. How the water resembles me! My voice will be like the leaves falling of the trees. They were silent at first, but they spoke and everyone was listening.
Student Eight: Peaceful, calming, the sun is shining bright. Everything is fine and I don’t feel like going back. When I see the woods and listen to the water running, it makes me feel better. I have enjoyed coming here, but I hate leaving. I would want to stay here forever and never go back. I like to think about them when I’m here…it’s like they never left. Every time the wind blows, they get closer…They never leave; they are always the same.
Student Nine: This was nice of the teachers to do this for us because it’s peaceful and tranquil to just sit down and write what comes to mind. We’ll see where I will be in the future, but I will miss this field trip. I don’t really write, but in this case I will because when I am in a peaceful environment I can think.
Student Ten: A lot has been going on in my life…and I feel like I have the worst luck…I miss my mom. I pray every day that things will get better for me because I want to better myself. I don’t really know how to deal with the pressure of the things I am going through. I love the fact that God can make things better. That’s why I never give up hope. I really like the fact that we came here today because it’s very relaxing and it soothes me. This is the first time I have really faced my problems and talked to myself about them. I would love to come here again very soon to relax myself more.
Really?
Dr. Jeff Rediger is an Ivy League professor of psychiatry with a Master’s Degree in Divinity. He describes a “vision” he had while meditating, saying, “I saw in my mind’s eye some people with white light around them — it was very intense. I knew that things are okay, that it really is all love, things are all really connected. That happened in a matter of five minutes.” On the video, he then began to spontaneously bleed for no apparent reason, like Saints of old, and he said that he was “afraid” because he felt that he was “not in control”. He then said that:
My whole life has been turned upside down…I’m a different person in many ways. My interpretation of what happened to me is this: In short, we all matter, far more than we typically have a clue about, and love is what is real. We tend to believe in what we can see and touch, and believe that the world as it appears to be is the “real” world. On the basis of my experience, I have come to believe that reality is both revealed and concealed by the world we see with our eyes, and that none of us are who we appear to be.
Powerful words. Actually, his entire statement struck me as true, but I’ll focus on one point in particular. I sometimes hear from spiritual people that what we see around us isn’t really real. I’ve always been one to say that what we are experiencing on this “plane” does count for something. It’s just not everything. So Rediger’s comment that ”reality is both revealed and concealed” struck a chord with me.
