A Walk in the Fog

Butterfly JLRMany people who search out meditation do it because they have reached some kind of crisis. They simply can’t continue limping along using the broken coping mechanisms that have helped them in the past. I was no exception.

My anxiety was choking me.  I wanted relief. I wanted to be able to experience joy without tainting it with the undercurrent of worry that seemed to run through many of my thoughts.

I used to say to myself, oh, you’re just good at anticipating issues, at planning, yeah that’s it. And while that was a lucky offshoot of worrying, what it really meant was I was driving my mind and body into the ground with unnecessary stress and tension. I began to realize that while a young body and mind can rebound more easily, I was getting older, and my older body and mind were having a great deal of difficulty. I knew something had to change.

So, I asked a friend to give me meditation instruction and I took some introductory classes.  To my surprise, this did not make things better.  I actually had to sit alone with the mind that was driving me crazy.  The technique was simple but impossible, I was bored, tired, dammit my back hurt. People were having revelations all around me and I was more anxious than when I started because on top of everything else, I was a “bad” meditator!

That was when I got a meditation instructor.  Talking out some of these thoughts was very helpful.  And I started to learn the two most valuable lessons that meditation has brought me:  just do it and it starts with compassion for yourself; you are at least as important as everyone else.

People who have been doing this for a while get excited: it’s about being in the moment, radiating out, holding yourself in the cradle of loving kindness. If you can’t relate to all of that language, don’t worry about it.  Just follow the technique.  Follow the breath, notice your thinking, return to the breath, wash, rinse, repeat.

After doing this for a year, I noticed that when I wasn’t meditating and my mind was spinning out of control with all of the horrible (and unlikely) possibilities, I could look for my breath and let it go.  None of those terrible things were actually happening.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

This is the practice.  Working with your mind as it is, recognizing that the mind does what the mind does, just like your eyes see or your ears hear.  I am not just my eyes, I am not just my mind.  My mind is a wonderful tool that helps me interact with the world, but I am so much more. My mind does not define who I am. I have passion, humor, heart, my body and my mind.

When I started talking about all my difficulties with meditation I came to find out people have been having the same challenges for hundreds of years. My experiences were very human.  Everyone struggles with the busy mind, everyone’s back hurts, everyone worries that their stomach will grumble in the oh-so-silent meditation hall.

It was comforting.  If I felt compassion for my friends who had these struggles, why wouldn’t I offer myself the same understanding?  I am just as important as anyone else and it wasn’t pride to treat myself that way. This helped me establish boundaries, look out for myself and ask for what I need.  And guess what?  The world didn’t stop turning, no one died, work kept getting done and wow did I feel better.

A friend of mine said the funniest and maybe truest thing I had ever heard about meditation: “It’s like walking in the fog – at some point you realize you’re wet”.  So don’t expect earth-shaking revelations.  I’ve never had any, but some people do.  Don’t expect to empty your mind, it won’t happen. Don’t expect anything – just stick with it and one day you’ll realize you’re wet.