When I first began, I had a basic misunderstanding that the goal of meditation was to clear my mind of all thoughts and feelings. Naturally, I couldn't do it. No one can. The mind is like Penn Station at rush hour. Which is to say, total chaos.
In meditation, what you're actually doing is paying close attention to the trends and tracks of the mind, not the contents of the fevered list making, the dramatic reenactments of events that did or didn't happen, fantasy spinning and future tripping that pull us out of the present moment.
This short audio clip by Gil Fronsdal of the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA describes the intention of this detached observation of the mind.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
After a Long Intermission, Here's Pema
Reader, it's always helpful to go back to the basics. Check out this clip of Bill Moyers interviewing Pema Chodron for "On Faith and Reason." I find it particularly useful to review the nature of suffering, the difference between pain and suffering and the end of suffering. Plus, Pema is very compelling. And adorable. Good stuff.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Hump in the Rearview Mirror
As you'll see in a moment, I started writing this post weeks ago, when I thought I was on a roll. Oh well.
Phew, reader. Now that I've gotten over the intimidation of the second post it feels easier to share my journey along the spiritual path. Please help me come up with a less eye-rolling phrase for this, for I wish to never utter it again. Thank you.
I recently heard Joseph Goldstein speak. In fancy Buddhist language, that's a dharma talk, which I believe just means a chat about the teaching of the Buddha. Though I am very new to the world of meditation and Buddhism I gather from his introduction that Goldstein is Kind of a Big Deal.
During the Q&A, someone asked Goldstein to reflect back upon the start of his meditation practice and share something he would want beginning meditators to know. He replied something like, meditation was less about big realizations and more about the "fading away of various delusions."
Delusion is kind of a strong word, yes? Delusional people believe all sorts of loony things: that other people are controlling their thoughts, that they are the Queen of Persia, that messages are being relayed to them via swirls in their peanut butter. Delusional people are not in touch with reality and everyone knows it.
And yet expectations can also be a form of delusion. Expectations set up an alternate universe in your head where events unfold the way you believe they should, which is not always (or ever) the way they actually did or do unfold.
For example:
The failure of reality to meet even the smallest of expectations can really throw you for a loop--prompt a big ol' temper tantrum of anger and betrayal. How DARE that cat poopify my clean sheets? How DARE that bag of rice attack my head! Letting go of those kinds of expectations or delusions can be a relief--ah, I don't have to flip out about this because I actually don't control the cat or the bag of rice nor are the cat and the bag of rice conspiring against me.
The bigger expectations, well. Those are harder, aren't they? But the same still holds true. An expectation, however big or small, is the past or the future, or a story or a fantasy, or an untruth. An expectation isn't what's actually happening. And it's what's actually happening that you need to live with.
Phew, reader. Now that I've gotten over the intimidation of the second post it feels easier to share my journey along the spiritual path. Please help me come up with a less eye-rolling phrase for this, for I wish to never utter it again. Thank you.
I recently heard Joseph Goldstein speak. In fancy Buddhist language, that's a dharma talk, which I believe just means a chat about the teaching of the Buddha. Though I am very new to the world of meditation and Buddhism I gather from his introduction that Goldstein is Kind of a Big Deal.
During the Q&A, someone asked Goldstein to reflect back upon the start of his meditation practice and share something he would want beginning meditators to know. He replied something like, meditation was less about big realizations and more about the "fading away of various delusions."
Delusion is kind of a strong word, yes? Delusional people believe all sorts of loony things: that other people are controlling their thoughts, that they are the Queen of Persia, that messages are being relayed to them via swirls in their peanut butter. Delusional people are not in touch with reality and everyone knows it.
And yet expectations can also be a form of delusion. Expectations set up an alternate universe in your head where events unfold the way you believe they should, which is not always (or ever) the way they actually did or do unfold.
For example:
The cat should clean his bottom after using the litter box and shouldn't sit on my clean pillowcase with his poopy behind.
When I open my cupboard, I shouldn't be beaned by a bag of rice.
It should be warm and sunny in August, not freezing and foggy.
If someone hits your parked car, they should leave you a note.
If you make healthy decisions, you will lead a long and healthy life.
Parents shouldn't outlive their children.
The failure of reality to meet even the smallest of expectations can really throw you for a loop--prompt a big ol' temper tantrum of anger and betrayal. How DARE that cat poopify my clean sheets? How DARE that bag of rice attack my head! Letting go of those kinds of expectations or delusions can be a relief--ah, I don't have to flip out about this because I actually don't control the cat or the bag of rice nor are the cat and the bag of rice conspiring against me.
The bigger expectations, well. Those are harder, aren't they? But the same still holds true. An expectation, however big or small, is the past or the future, or a story or a fantasy, or an untruth. An expectation isn't what's actually happening. And it's what's actually happening that you need to live with.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Be Here, Now
Lordy, reader. As you can see from the gap between my first and second posts, I've been struggling for what to say next. Cue the crickets. Then I got all self-judge-y about how lame it is to start a new blog then promptly abandon it. Repeated this cycle, a lot.
I wrote and erased dozens of paragraphs as recently as five minutes ago but really? Irrelevant. What I'm doing is being with what's here, right now. Which sounds so gah California I must actively resist the urge to delete.
That's it. Sitting with what's here, be it pleasant, unpleasant or neutral.
I wrote and erased dozens of paragraphs as recently as five minutes ago but really? Irrelevant. What I'm doing is being with what's here, right now. Which sounds so gah California I must actively resist the urge to delete.
That's it. Sitting with what's here, be it pleasant, unpleasant or neutral.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Welcome to Second Life
Reader, for the past four years I've been happily blogging over at Professional Critic about celebrity gossip, music, feminism, television, political scandals, social injustice, baby animals and a smattering of porn. I've generally steered clear of the personal since so much of the interwebs is already, GAH! TOO MUCH INFORMATION, SHHH, SHUSH please don't tell me that.
As you can guess, I feel somewhat scarred by bloggerly oversharing and have crafted Professional Critic accordingly. Despite my intention to keep private events just that, life has gone on with its bad self; the subsequent twists, turns and tumbles off the edges of sheer cliffs have made me realize there are some personal events I do want to write about but Professional Critic just didn't feel like the right place to do this. Hence, the creation of this here blog, Second Life.
In a nutshell, here's why: since 2006 I've lost a great deal of my family. Some losses were in what one might consider to be a "natural" timeline, others not quite and others not even remotely. Some were rather sudden, others are continually unfolding in a way that is at once agonizingly prolonged and shockingly fast.
It has become increasingly difficult to make sense of these losses. Countless times I've found myself saying over and over, to no one in particular, "Really?" like an episode of Saturday Night Live Weekend Update with Amy Poehler and Seth Meyers on repeat. At some point it started to click, that yes, REALLY.
And then I was all better!
The End.
I feel compelled to interject these moments of levity to counter balance the heaviness of this. Also, I must acknowledge humor as a Heavy-Duty Coping Skill Whose Power Cannot Be Underestimated. I'll be revisiting this theme often in Second Life.
Anyway, there's no way to express what I'm about to say without sounding melodramatic yet I mean this in the most matter-of-fact way: I have no idea why I'm waking up everyday, but I am. I have no idea why I didn't evaporate into a puff of dust, but I didn't.
So, with the question of really? more or less settled and my undeniable living, breathing existence, in Second Life I grapple with the next kind of big question: and, now what?
As you can guess, I feel somewhat scarred by bloggerly oversharing and have crafted Professional Critic accordingly. Despite my intention to keep private events just that, life has gone on with its bad self; the subsequent twists, turns and tumbles off the edges of sheer cliffs have made me realize there are some personal events I do want to write about but Professional Critic just didn't feel like the right place to do this. Hence, the creation of this here blog, Second Life.
In a nutshell, here's why: since 2006 I've lost a great deal of my family. Some losses were in what one might consider to be a "natural" timeline, others not quite and others not even remotely. Some were rather sudden, others are continually unfolding in a way that is at once agonizingly prolonged and shockingly fast.
It has become increasingly difficult to make sense of these losses. Countless times I've found myself saying over and over, to no one in particular, "Really?" like an episode of Saturday Night Live Weekend Update with Amy Poehler and Seth Meyers on repeat. At some point it started to click, that yes, REALLY.
And then I was all better!
The End.
I feel compelled to interject these moments of levity to counter balance the heaviness of this. Also, I must acknowledge humor as a Heavy-Duty Coping Skill Whose Power Cannot Be Underestimated. I'll be revisiting this theme often in Second Life.
Anyway, there's no way to express what I'm about to say without sounding melodramatic yet I mean this in the most matter-of-fact way: I have no idea why I'm waking up everyday, but I am. I have no idea why I didn't evaporate into a puff of dust, but I didn't.
So, with the question of really? more or less settled and my undeniable living, breathing existence, in Second Life I grapple with the next kind of big question: and, now what?
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