As I mentioned recently in my learning edge post, I’ve been listening to a new (to me) podcast, Zencast. It’s about, as you probably guessed, Buddhism. I just yesterday finished listening to a 5 part series, entitled Introduction to Meditation. It’s available here if you’re interested. The series was specifically about mindfulness meditation, simply being aware of whatever is going on in the present moment, and I learned a lot from it. Much of what was said by Gil Fronsdal in it were things I’d read previously, but a lot of it really sank in when I listened to his talks.
One thing that his talks cleared up for me is the fact that you don’t need a perfect environment for mindfulness meditation. It doesn’t have to be quiet; it doesn’t have to be the “right” temperature; you don’t have to find the absolute perfect posture, where you’re not uncomfortable at all (even though posture is considered important).
Instead, when something occurs that might “interrupt” your meditation, simply make that the focus of your meditation. Is the dog next door barking madly at some cat? No problem. Be aware of the barking, focus on it. Is it simply too hot in your room, or the meditation hall, or where ever it is you’re sitting? Just be aware of the heat. What does it really feel like; as in, what does heat actually feel like, without all of the thoughts that your mind creates about your situation?
In a similar vein as dog barks, heat, and other such things: itches! Itches are something I’ve taken a rather peculiar interest in since I started listening to Zencast and sitting daily. Previously, if I had an itch during a meditation, I’d just scratch it. Now I just sit with it and observe what my mind does. I think all of us have, at some point in our lives, been in the situation of having a bad itch that we either can’t reach, or can’t scratch right then. Usually what happens is that you find yourself thinking you’re just going to die if you don’t scratch that itch. It’s terrible; you can’t function in your life with such an awful itch.
Similar thoughts bubble up during meditation, but if you just sit with them, or “hang out with them”, in Gil’s words, you’ll find that it’s not so unbearable at all. The itch itself isn’t the unbearable thing; what can be unbearable are the thoughts that we generate about the itch. Sitting with the itch, focusing your awareness on the itch, the thoughts tend to dissipate, and you’re left with the simple, unadorned experience of the itch. When you’ve reached that pointt, experiencing it without any added thoughts, it’s interesting to discover that it’s not so bad after all. Perhaps that sounds silly, meditating on an itch, but I recommend you try it (if you want); you don’t need a meditation cushion or anything. Just have a seat, sit with your breath, and wait for an itch to appear (and they will, trust me). Then just hang out with it and watch what your mind does.
I’ve done similar meditation on pain and discomfort. Where I’ve not sat regularly for very long, one of my legs invariably fall asleep – but before it goes to sleep, it hurts, aches, and has some massive tingling going on. I used to just change my position to try and get rid of the pain. I also used to try to avoid the pain, to focus on something else, even though the pain was often overpowering. This never worked. I’ve found, however, that if, instead of avoiding it, I focus on the pain, and just try to be present for it, the pain isn’t overpowering. It’s certainly not enjoyable – it still hurts, I’m not claiming otherwise! – but it isn’t as disrupting as it would be otherwise.
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