Enlightenmentally Challenged

Meditation has always intrigued me.  Ever since taking a course in Eastern Religions during my first year of college, I've fantasized about bending spoons and levitating.  I'd daydream of floating around in the flowing and colorful robes.  I'd daydream of inexplicably going completely bald and settling in with a Buddha bulb of a belly.  Most importantly, I fantasized of becoming "enlightened."   


Eastern philosophy and practice has always seemed exotic to me, so different.  And that was part of the draw.  But deeper than this otherness was an intuitive feeling that a lot of their philosophies and practices just made a ton of sense.  Meditation and yoga, for example, just seemed very practical and focused on this world, the here and now, and not so much on what happens next.  However, on the other hand, these teachings and practices seemed so elusive, intangible, and impossible to understand. (Think: "what is the sound of one hand clapping?")


My irrational fantasizing was not all in vain, I guess, because it led me to actually try it out.  Six years ago, I moved back home after my first two years of college in San Diego.  At that point in my life, I was not in a good place psychologically, physically, or emotionally.  But instead of just continuing to imagine myself levitating and becoming the envy of society, I bought a book on meditation and decided to enroll in a yoga class at my new school.  


I read the meditation book first.  It was surprisingly straight-forward.  It laid out many of the physiological and psychological benefits of meditation.  It gave what I thought at the time were pretty simplistic directions in how to meditate: sit down, close your eyes, take deep breaths, focus on your breath, counting breaths helps maintain focus on breath.  It wasn't at all what I expected. By sitting and drawing in deep breath after deep breath, yea, I mean, I felt pretty relaxed after each session.  But I never levitated or bent any spoons.  Most of all, I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere cognitively or spiritually.  What am I missing?  Maybe yoga will resolve this. 


Heading into my first yoga class, I thought to myself, "I got this. I'm in decent shape.  What? All we're doing is some stretching and shit, right?"  But by the third "chair pose," my ass and hammies were on fire and I didn't know what hit me.  I was ready to walk out.  But I couldn't just walk out, if I quit I wouldn't get credit for the class.  So I stuck with it.  I had no choice.  After three weeks, all I had to show for it was a perpetually sore ass and an even more bruised ego.  Where was the spiritual bliss?  The only time I felt something remotely resembling bliss was when I was rolling up my mat and heading out the door.  


Fast forward six years.  I'm still regularly practicing yoga - once or twice a week - and have been since I enrolled in that class in college six years ago.  Why?  Because it works.  The physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual benefits can be huge and have been for me.  It is not an overstatement to say that yoga has changed my life.  But the more I practice, the more I realize how little I know, and how there has been a key piece that I have been missing.  I mean, yea, I still hadn't levitated yet or been able to grow a mangy guru beard, but that's not what I am driving at.  What I mean is that after six years of regularly practicing yoga, I still hadn't come to understand meditation.


Even though I was trying to meditate every so often over the past six years, I still had no idea what I was doing.  Sure, it made me feel more relaxed than before I sat down, but it didn't seem like it was going anywhere.  Feeling frustrated, about six months ago, I just stopped doing it.  


Six or seven weeks ago, Tracy came home with a magazine called the "Shambhala Sun."  She said she saw it at Whole Foods.  She was intrigued and decided to pick it up.  She tossed it over to me.  On the cover was a 30 or 40 year-old man sitting cross-legged with eyes closed and hands clasped on his lap.  To the right of the man read, "Does Meditation Really Work?"  Flipping through, and finding out that yes, it does work, I was convinced but not inspired.  It just seemed too hard.  And where do I fit it into my schedule?  When Tracy suggested that we set a time each day to meditate, I shot the idea down immediately.  I got fussy, she laughed at me.  


About two weeks later, Tracy and I had just come out of a rare late afternoon Friday yoga class - we typically practice either Monday or Wednesday nights with the same instructor, Darren Main.  Walking out of the class, we hear, "you guys are cheating on me!"  We recognize the voice, turn left and see a smiling Darren.  We share a laugh.  We linger around and chat with Darren for a few minutes.  He was teaching the class after the one we just came out of.  As he heads into the studio to teach his class, T and I continue to hang around the lobby of the studio.  We poke around the bookshelf, checking out some of the titles.  I pull a book off the shelf, then Tracy pulls one off. The book I pull is titled, "Inner Tranquility: A Guide to Seated Meditation" by Darren Main.  The book Tracy pull is titled , "Yoga and the Path of the Urban Mystic," also by Darren Main.  


Darren pops back into the lobby to grab something he forgot.  We turn to him. "Hey, we're thinking about buying your books!" we say, excited. 


"So I've successfully guilt-tripped you into buying my books?  Great!  I have others!"  Darren responds dryly.  


I dove into Darren's book on meditation the very next day.  What struck me immediately was its clarity.  Reading it felt like I picked up "Meditation for Dummies."  And while it is written for the reader who has no previous knowledge of meditation, it is never condescending or patronizing.  Darren starts out by explaining the different ways to sit, how long to sit, when to sit, a few of the different styles of meditation, and what to do during meditation.  He recommends a thirty-day challenge: 1) Try meditating for twenty minutes a day for thirty straight days.  2) See if you want to continue practicing meditation after those thirty days.  3) If you do want to continue, do another thirty-day challenge.  


A few chapters into the short book I realized there was a lot that I was not doing right.  I learned I was not sitting cross-legged with a straight spine.  Nor was I breathing correctly.  Taking deep breaths is okay when settling in, I learned, but after a minute or so, your breathing should become natural and unforced.  The focus of the practice is to concentrate on your slight and effortless inhalation and exhalation.  That's all.  Whenever a distracting thought bubbles up, direct your concentration back to the breath.  I thought myself, "Really? That's all there is to it?  I got this."  


It was Sunday morning and I was ready to start the challenge.  


Then I closed my eyes and started Day One of the challenge.  It was Sunday morning, February 19th, and I was ready.  But two minutes into my first meditation and I thought I was insane.  Even though I had just gotten out of bed fifteen minutes beforehand and even though I hadn't eaten, drank, or logged on to anything, my mind felt like it had been substituted with the mind of a hyperactive chimpanzee.  Trying to focus on nothing but my slight inhalation and exhalation was like trying to lasso a wet cat. 


Okay, breathe...  Just focus on the breath... Inhale... Exhale...


"What are you gonna wear today?!  Ooo, breakfast?! Have you thought about breakfast?! You're out of fruit! Out of fruit!  Better go to the store!  Thought about dinner?? You're out of clean underwear too!  Laundry! Laundry!!"


Shut up, will you?  Okay, back to breath... Inhale...Exhale...


"You forgot to email your supervisor.  You said you were going to email her.  You haven't called your client back either.  I wonder what's on Facebook? I bet someone commented on your latest post.  Have you thought about what you're going to write for your next blog post?!  Hey, you should write about this!  That bird outside really needs to stop chirping.  Rush Limbaugh is such an asshole, huh?"


What?  I was convinced I was nuts.  But I was reassured that this was normal.  


The twenty minutes couldn't have gone slower.  My back started aching, my foot fell asleep, and my hips screamed.  Day One completed - barely. 


Having successfully completed the 30-day challenge, and now in my first few days of another 30 day challenge, I wish I could say to you, dear reader, that at the end of the 30-day challenge I have mentally crushed a few spoons and freed my mind of useless clutter.  It pains me to admit otherwise. My spoons are still in tact and my mind is not free of clutter.  


[Assuming you have already left the page upon hearing this devastating news, I will spend the rest of this post explaining (to myself) why meditation is still very worthwhile.]


I noticed the benefits right away.  Despite feeling crazy during those first few sessions, the sense of ease and calm that I felt throughout the rest of my day was unparalleled.  Whenever something frustrated me or made me anxious, I found myself bringing my attention back to my breath, just like I would during meditation.  Amazingly, that frustration or annoyance would cease, if not right away, then quicker than it used to.  For example, a woman yaking on her cell phone on the morning train was seen in different light.  It was seen as a challenge.  Can I take inventory of what I'm thinking and feeling and try to breathe through it?  Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldn't. 


While I could sense my patience growing for others, I also found a growing sense of patience for myself.  In his book, Darren explains the five main distractions or impulses that can detract from meditation: craving, aversion, fantasy, sloth, and agitation.  Most distracting thoughts and impulses can be traced back to these five.  Each distracts you from the present moment.  Whenever you notice you're experiencing one of these five distractions, I learned, recognize it, label it, and direct yourself back to the breath.  Easier said than done.  


I find that I am constantly engaging in fantasy, aversion, and agitation.  Sometimes all at the same time.  For example, I would find myself getting excited about an upcoming court hearing.  I would fantasize about the courtroom, my compelling argument, wooing everyone, and winning the case and being the hero.  One second later, I would find myself in aversion-mode and completely terrified.  What if I lose?  What if I look like a total moron?  I can't do this.  Then, I find myself agitated.  I can't sit still, my heart has sped up, and I'm fussy.  All this because of a fantasy.  Something completely made up in my mind, something that doesn't exist and has no basis in reality.  Something that takes me far away from the present moment, i.e., the breath.  


Or I would find myself fantasizing about becoming a famous writer.  I'd fantasize about all the books I will write, the adoration of fans, my NPR interviews, all the great people I would meet, and the great lifestyle I would live.  And then, aversion: what if I don't like my publisher?  What if the critics don't like my book? I should just stick to law.  Then I'm agitated and fussy again.  I realize this sounds ridiculous, and it is, but it's amazing how often we engage in this sort of thinking without ever realizing it.  


The great thing about meditation, I've noticed, is developing this awareness, gaining an insight into how my mind, thoughts, and emotions work so I can recognize when I am having these fantasies, aversions, and agitations.  And instead of engaging in them, never let them gain enough momentum to take flight.


I could go on and on about my experience with meditation.  I could talk about how great it has been for my focus and concentration, for my sleep, for my self-discipline in diet and exercise, or for my clarity in communication.  I could talk about how I set my alarm thirty minutes earlier every morning yet still look forward to meditating everyday.  I could talk about how the twenty minutes don't seem so long now and how the physical discomfort is all but gone while meditating.  I could talk about some of the moments of complete stillness that I have experienced during a few meditation sessions.  I could talk about how great it has been for Tracy and my relationship - we both completed the 30-day challenge together.  Or I could talk about how I finally feel like I'm starting to have a deeper understanding of yoga.


But I won't.  I'm far too "enlightened" now to keep boasting.