Tag: meditation

The Sounds of Silence

I have nothing to say. That interests me. Words are important currency in our society. People often seem to value them above a lot of other elements. Snakeoil salesmen have historically used them to good effect.

When thoughts and words aren’t forthcoming, it feels odd to me. We need words to offer and feel validation. We use them to connect to and shape our environment.

Words are important for plotting a path in life. Words underpin the narrative upon which we build our beliefs and develop our goals. Without words, we cannot articulate our dreams nor map a way to actualize them.

What is it about having nothing to say that intrigues me? In part, words have been my survival tool. I have relied on my ability to write or talk my way either out of or into any situation I believed I wanted to be part of.

I cannot say words were equally effective in improving my judgment, however. Some of those situations I got into I very quickly I wanted to get out of. There is a lot of wisdom in the caution “be careful what you wish for.”

We don’t much value nothing these days. It doesn’t sell well or for much money. And yet, there is so much available for us to learn and feel in nothingness and silence.

Most people fear emptiness. Recall in your own life uncomfortable silences that may have made certain interactions difficult and awkward. Recall the allure of frantic celebrations or parties we attended when thinking or speaking might have been impossible. The din of people trying to talk over loud music drowns out any intimacy there could be.

I once attended a 10 day silent meditation retreat in a beautiful country setting based on the ancient Vipassana tradition. Vipassana is a meditation discipline wherein we train our minds to “see things as they really are.” My interpretation of Vipassana is that by letting the mental clutter in our minds settle, we can clearly see ourselves and others.

Here is what the worldwide Vipassana website tells us about the practice:

There are three steps to the training. The first step is, for the period of the course, to abstain from killing, stealing, sexual activity, speaking falsely, and intoxicants. This serves to calm the mind, which otherwise would be too agitated to perform the task of self-observation.

The next step is to develop some mastery over the mind by learning to fix one’s attention on the natural reality of the ever changing flow of breath as it enters and leaves the nostrils.

By the fourth day the mind is calmer and more focused, better able to undertake the practice of Vipassana itself: observing sensations throughout the body, understanding their nature, and developing equanimity by learning not to react to them.

Finally, on the last full day participants learn the meditation of loving kindness or goodwill towards all, in which the purity developed during the course is shared with all beings.

https://www.dhamma.org/en-US/about/vipassana

The experience of a silent retreat is purifying. And calming. But many don’t make it through the ten days. Days Three and Four are well known as “bolt” days. These are the days when people are most likely to leave. For some people, being alone with their thoughts in complete isolation is too difficult and too frightening.

I believe you have to be ready before you undergo a ten day course of complete silence and disconnection from the outside world (no cellphones, journals or even books are allowed). Participants are free to go as they wish. They are also free to come back if/when they feel ready.

Finding a time and place to experience complete silence and disconnection is no mean feat. Social media bombards us with an endless array of opportunities to connect and share and communicate with others. Quantity has won the day over quality.

So embracing my inner Luddite, I am better and happier generally when I carve out tranches of silent “me time.” Early mornings are good for that. And what is it I do in that space? Nothing.

I try doing something that is very hard for me. Just being. I ignore my devices, TV and my phone. No reading or writing emails. Not even writing this blog until I have had some nurturing quiet time. I like to sit and absorb what the world around me is offering me in those periods.

Birdsong in nearby trees. Jet planes flying overhead. Squirrels scuttling at top speed across the wooden fence in our backyard. I often do a body checkin at the same time.

How does my tummy feel today? Are my muscles aching from that swim yesterday? Am I hungry? Or thirsty? The body chatters away incessantly, if wordlessly, with us if we just tune in to it.

Odd admission for a writer, no doubt. But I believe in the underlying logic. By carving out time to card through my thoughts and reactions, the output of words is a little clearer and more focused.

As Vipassana aims to teach, I feel more confident emerging from silence that I am seeing the world as it really is, rather than how I want to see it. Maybe the world would be kinder and more sane if more people did.

What Owns You?

Today’s writing prompt: What would you do if you lost all your possessions?

I have gone through that experience a few times in my life, literally and figuratively. Sometimes by choice. Other times by loss. theft, or my own omissions. I forgot stuff in various places occasionally. So annoying.

In the absence of solid social and family support, possessions became my anchor.

It wasn’t a rational substitute. But the mental and emotional preoccupation of “taking care of” stuff gave me the illusion of self-care and control over my personal domain.

Going through a lifetime of possessions over this past month drove home the lesson of how deep an illusion it was.

Life would be much tidier if we just came preprogrammed with all the requisite skills we need to succeed in life. But we don’t. Growing and growing up involves time and the mysterious alchemy of nurture and nature.

We can take inventory of all the qualities we inherit from our parents and extended family and environment. In to that mix comes the special sauce of our own character and personality that we bring to the table.

Our personal taste seems internally determined but is undoubtedly overlaid with the influences of our childhood home or homes. It is why we often see gaucherie or insecurity in the decorating tastes of the nouveau riche.

It is said that the middle class have things, and the rich have money. If you were raised in poverty or the middle class and come into money, that background is often manifested in excess. If you haven’t learned healthy boundaries or money management rules growing up, you may go off the rails quickly if sudden wealth comes your way.

On one of those fascinating, if squirm inducing, “I Won The Lottery!” shows, a middle-aged redneck took inordinate pride in the original Italian marble statues (imported directly from Italy!) that surrounded his oversize backyard pool.

He made a point of explaining why he didn’t give his teenage daughter an allowance. “She has to learn she will have to earn her own money,” he said, disingenuously. “Just like I did.”

Hanging out with people who have or come from money, you see how taken for granted or comfortable they are with wealth and comfort. Want something? Get it. Lose or break something? Replace it. Don’t have any at the moment? But I will.

There was no gnashing of teeth or wailing about how to get what they wanted or getting their needs met. When I was about 14, I tentatively asked my Dad for $5. “I already gave you $5 last week. What do you need more money for? “Tampons,” I almost whispered, writhing in shame and humiliation.

Our emotional relationship with things develop much like as our relationships with human beings develop. When attentive human beings are not consistently available to meet our multiple needs as we grow up, we compensate. We may then learn to divert our attention and seek satisfaction from things instead of getting our legitimate human needs met.

It’s a pervasive compensatory tactic.

“Too many people spend money they haven’t earned, to buy things they don’t want, to impress people that they don’t like.”
― Will Rogers

Today’s writing prompt asked, what would you do if you lost all your possessions? I might throw a party. I might pack a napsack and head for parts unknown. I might go to a meditation retreat center to think about what my life was before and after possessions held me in thrall.

If/when that day comes. I hope I will treat myself with the requisite level of empathy and compassion for doing what I did and felt I had to do to make up for emotional deficits in my life.

Until I finally learned to meet my normal human needs and find satisfaction in healthier, people focussed ways.

The World’s Happiest Man

I have followed the journey of Matthieu Ricard for many years. He is a French scientist turned monk. He’s written books. He became famous as a Harvard research study subject who underwent brain scans during meditation, proving their efficacy.

One thing you realize as you get older is that people are people are people. Even celebrities and spiritual leaders. I have always found it silly to approach celebrities with great awe and deference. They expect attention and can usually handle it. But they know they are just flawed human beings like everyone else.

So the nervous demeanor of this young-ish reporter that she reports when she approaches monk Matthieu Ricard is a bit obsequious and flagrantly starstruck. Blows up that “objective journalist” mythology. If I’m honest I did that sometimes, too, as a young journalist. It just shifts the power dynamic in the interview in favor of your subject instead of interacting as equals.

It takes time to realize that in the reporter-celebrity dyad, you are both playing distinct roles. They are acting and your job is to report on that. Matthieu Ricard kindly and consistently was having none of that with the young Guardian reporter. He is genuinely authentic in the simplicity of the spirituality he lives.

And that doesn’t take away from the fine intellect of Matthieu Ricard, as this article demonstrates. Give this Guardian article about him a go to explore that mind a bit.

Give it a go especially if you are in a rat race corporate or academic job. If you ever wondered what jumping off the hamster wheel to pursue a spiritual life might be like, read about Matthieu Ricard’s life, for example. An example he is of what it means to live simply and happily.

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/sep/18/the-worlds-happiest-man-matthieu-ricard-on-the-secrets-of-a-serene-successful-satisfying-life

Wholehearted Agreement

This opinion piece was published in The New York Times a couple of days ago.

Writer David Brooks is riding a familiar hobby horse.

As much as “therapy culture,” has risen in recent decades, it has plenty of legitimate critics.

I’m one of them.

I particularly like the issue taken by Brooks with what qualifies as “traumatic.” Where it once referred to extreme abuses in war or profound psychological damage from assaults such as rape, the word trauma is now thrown around like rice at a wedding. Similarly benign “damage” and the insults of living life are too often labeled “traumatic,” as well.

I appreciated the caution in Christopher Lacsh’s 1979 book, The Culture of Narcissism. He warned the perils of endless introspection would result in the very culture we live in today.

Self-absorption among younger people “rules” and “rocks” and smears itself across the planet on all manner of social platforms. My concern is how many young people are chasing fame and fortune before they can legally drink in some states.

And for those who can’t or don’t make it in a big way, well … teenage suicide rates are off the historical chart. It is not a coincidence.

Putting the cart before the horse comes to mind. Healing is hard work. I write about healing because of some big, frequent ugly events that no little girl should have to live through. Not “mom was mean to me when I was little” variety but that was an issue, too.

I feel I “paid my dues” in the healing community. I employed a lot of personal searching, soul-searching, and healing modalities (yoga, meditation, talk therapy, anti-depressants, sobriety).

But make no mistake. Arriving at a healing destination where I can look back on the journey with a mixture of self-compassion, compassion for the perpetrators, self-forgiveness, and wry sense of humor took decades.

Through it all, I raised children, worked in the world, and I lived without a partner. My recent status as a married woman is a great cherry comfort on the cake of my life and healing. Not the catalyst.

That determination came from me and my own personal actions. Some days I fell apart. On other days, I felt little and worthless. But I always managed to cling to the mast. It was no cakewalk but it was worth it.

So in the therapy-soaked social environment of today, sometimes just knowing the psychological lingo qualifies you in your own mind for respect and special management.

That isn’t working and the piece below deftly explores why. The question is, can the social Titanic we are currently sailing avoid the iceberg in time?