4100weeks

Why I sit on a cushion, trying to concentrate on my breath

I just finished a five-week course in meditation, one of several I’ve taken over the past ten years, since I first got introduced to one of those ironic practices that seems so simple and yet is so very, very difficult.

Try it. Right now. Close your eyes, and concentrate on just your breath. Any thoughts that come up—say about what you’re having for lunch, or that fight you had with your girlfriend last night, or who’s going to win the big football game this Sunday—just let them pass by like clouds, and return to your breath.

Not so easy, right?

Well, after you master that “basic” technique, it gets even harder. That’s when you start to see some of the ugly stuff you’ve been hiding from yourself. Here’s my beginner’s understanding of it: All that continuous chatter about future plans or ruminations about the past--they kept your mind busy running in circles so that you can hide from things you don’t want to think about. For example, maybe you’re not ready to think about your part in the fight with your girlfriend, or how lonely you feel since your best friend moved.

But when we don’t even know about our ugly stuff, we certainly can’t deal with it, even though it’s coloring a lot of our behaviors.

Here’s a personal example: The day after my final meditation class, I got an email from a higher up at work asking me to do a task I knew I couldn’t do in the time frame outlined because I had two other projects with even tighter deadlines, and I was leaving for vacation in three days. 

I hate saying no. To anyone. But especially to a higher ups at work.  

In this instance, though, I knew I had to send the email, so I did, and then I left for the day. As I walked to catch my train, I could feel my heart beating with anxiety, and I knew it was because of the stupid email. On the train, I closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths. Then I thought about whether or not I felt I acted correctly in the situation. I did. I took a few more deep breaths, and decided to let it go, at least until I knew if there was something to even fret about.

If I hadn’t just come off of taking that meditation class? I would have fretted for a long time about whether I could fit the project in, even though I really knew I couldn’t. When I finally sent the email saying so, I would have then stared at my computer, anxiously hitting refresh, waiting for the scathing reply I just knew was coming.

Then I would have gone home, using the time on the train to worry about the response. I wouldn’t really have known what I was anxious about, exactly—so I would have been angry at the guy for making demands I couldn’t live up to, instead of realizing that I needed to learn to be OK with saying no sometimes. I also might not have kept my anxiety focused solely on work—my husband might have got caught up in the hurricane of worry, as might anyone else in my path. My whole weekend might have been ruined by worry, anger, and confusion about what exactly I was worried and mad about.

So, clearly, option #1 is much more pleasant for everyone involved. And it takes daily, 15-minute periods of sitting on a meditation cushion for that scenario to be a reality for me. 

So I signed up for the second part of that meditation class, in hopes it will keep my butt on the cushion, and my worries in check.

(Oh, and that work thing? The message I got in return basically said, “Don’t worry about it.” Glad I didn’t spend much time doing so!) 

 

4100 weeks, eh? Sure puts things in perspective....

4100 weeks, eh? Sure puts things in perspective. Which, of course, is the point. Personally, I've only got about 2,436 left to play with (I'll leave you to do the math to figure out my age).

So what to do with these weeks? So many things come to mind--I love to travel and see new places, to take on physical challenges (last year I did a triathlon).... But at this point, I want to focus my life on three things:

1. Getting to know myself better--all those hidden corners of my psyche that influence what I do and how I do it, but that I'm barely consciously aware of.

2. Developing and deepening the relationships in my life. I have a good marriage, some wonderful friends scattered across the continent, and a loving family. But, I still seem to be lacking. I lack a really strong local support system. I lack people who I let see the full me. I lack people I call on when I'm in need. I want to fix that.

3. Writing. I've known for over a decade that creative writing is my "thing," my calling, some would say. I feel calm and fully alive when I'm lost in a story of my own making. Maybe it goes back to #1 on my list--creative writing is another way I get to know myself. The story might start with a question like, What would I do if XX happened to me? And then I'm off and running, creating a character that isn't completely me, but of course contains a piece of me, a piece of me who gets to go do things, live lives that I could never live.

Yet. Writing is hard. It's hard to do well, and, at times, it's hard to find the motivation to do it at all--despite how good it feels when I'm in the flow of it (all this will probably sound familiar to those of you who exercise). But I know I need to do it in order to be satisfied.

So I want to use this blog to map my progress through these three areas. My hope, too, is that my goals--and my attempts and failures to meet them--will resonate with readers and cause you to pick up a pen to write in your journal, pick up the phone to call a friend who you're missing, or pick your own brain about who you are and what you want out of your 4100 weeks.

I hope you'll join me.