In spite of all my spiritual bullshit, as someone not so fond of me once called it, I’m very human and very flawed. I’m also very okay with that and some folks don’t think that’s so spiritual. Which is fine, too.
I remember hearing Pema Chodron on a YouTube video once sharing her personal experience with meditation and she joked about what a terrible meditator she is and that people tend to assume that since she’s, like, an actual monk, it’s something she is good at. But, apparently she has a busy mind.
I heard this at a time when I was beginning my meditation journey and it was perfect and timely because I was a terrible meditator as well. Especially in the beginning. I simply decided not to care. I told myself it didn’t matter how shittily I meditated, I was going to SIT for the designated time NO MATTER WHAT.
As I practiced there began to be spaces amidst the perpetual streams of thoughts. Mostly when I didn’t criticize or judge myself for the thoughts showing up.
My mind is still busy sometimes when I meditate, but there is quite a bit more space, and sometimes some pretty cool shit happens. That’s just bonus and never my intention when I sit. Interestingly, as cool shit started visiting, my mind grabbed hold once again and attempted to make meditation about cool shit happening.
So I let go again.
It’s a process, I suppose is all I’m saying.
While I’m stringent about my ‘meditation time’ I’m rather loosey-goosey with how it goes.
I’m ‘off’ when I miss it, which happens now and again. But I never skip it.
I meditate twenty minutes a day. Sometimes that length is a struggle, but it’s where I’ve settled in over the past almost four years.
Something has happened, though, in the past few weeks. I have been, hmmm, called into silence? Beckoned? Dragged, with requisite kicking and screaming?
Actually, and honestly, perhaps I’ve voluntarily jumped, head first?
My meditation time has become one hour. I’m floored by this. In fact, a month ago one hour would have seemed absolutely arduous and even counterproductive. But…
The thing I love about at least giving my mind the opportunity for silence is that ideas have space to pop in. I pay attention. There are quieter voices in my head that aren’t heard above the din of the rest but if I make the time to listen, I catch them.
It was in this way that I heard the whisper to meditate longer. And so I did, no matter the protestations of the other, rowdier voices.
I’ve also become increasingly…bothered? Resistant? Averse? Whatever. I can’t quite put my finger on it, exactly. But…noise…no thanks. I’m preferring no noise. Hmmm…that’s not quite true, either. I don’t mind the day to day conversations in the background, clinks and clangs, or hums and honks that are a part of life. But as someone who, while I don’t watch television, enjoys watching YouTube and reading to occupy my brain, I’m losing interest in those things.
This feels…important for some reason.
I share it, also, because I’ve heard it echoed by others.
Zeke said to me yesterday, “It’s weird but I haven’t been playing the radio lately.” You guys, sometimes I’ll walk through the house and between the garage and the bedroom I’ll be met with no less than three radios and one television. All on! This is a rather drastic change for him.
Are you becoming still? I’d love to hear of others’ experiences.
This shift seems significant and appropriate and lovely.