Author: Saskatoon Insight Meditation Community

I always say the most important thing I’ve learned through meditation is that I don’t need to do anything to get through difficult emotions. The second most important thing I learned is that clinging to pleasant emotions serves only to take away from the enjoyment of them.

Before meditation I had two ways of dealing with unpleasant emotions. I either distracted myself with avoidant behaviours by “keeping busy” or I sought out something that felt pleasurable. When I found something pleasurable I would do everything in my power to hold on to that feeling. The fear of losing that pleasant feeling would create anxiety which in turn lead me to either engage in avoidant behaviours or seak out more pleasant feelings. I am sure you can see the vicious cycle this creates.

As I learned to identify and sit with my unpleasant feelings (which for me were mostly fear and anxiety) I learned that if I recognized my patterns, stopped, took a breath, offered my self some loving kindness and allowed myself a moment to acknowledge that my anxiety was not rooted in anything present, but rather in either a past that no longer exists or a future that has not happened, I was able to sit with my fears and allow them to pass without getting caught up in my old unconscious cycles of avoidant and seeking behaviours

Learning not to cling to pleasant feelings is proving to be the more difficult task for me. It is ironic that I find the pleasant feeling the most difficult to move through but they are. When I am in a moment of happiness or joy I start to anticipate it ending and I start to miss it before it has even passed. This not only robs joy from the present moment it morphs it into something almost unpleasant. Clinging to happiness feels a bit like trying to hold onto water. You can hold more if you cup and cradle the water rather than squeeze and grip it.

In short meditation has taught me how to observe and allow and my unpleasant emotions and to cup and cradle my pleasant ones in a way that allows me to move through my life in a softer more present way. Mindfulness has given me the gift of being more present in my life. Each day I stay a little longer, see a little more, feel a little deeper and trust a little more fully.

~ Heather R

“Depend upon it, Sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.”  Samuel Johnson

Watching strong emotions and compulsive thoughts are like studying the obvious changing flows in the turbulent water of rapids – eddy currents coming and going, standing waves surging and subsiding, sub-currents exploding then subsiding; its a much easier study than trying to discern the subtle changes in the laminar flow of a wide, slow paced river coasting down a long, flat plain.

Which is why I find meditating while feeling strong emotions – anger, sadness, embarrassment, excitement, pleasure – an ideal situation; my mind tends to wander when I’m feeling pleasantly comfortable, but strong emotions or physical pain returns me to the present moment, where it becomes obvious that what appears to be a wall of feeling is made of a stream of discrete thoughts and feelings.

Its meditating in easy mode.

Moreover, its fun, and for the same reason kayaking down heavy white water is fun. And like shooting whitewater, you get better at it with practice.

~ Olaf

Sharon’s Day 16 message on cultivating positivity felt particularly meaningful for me today. Our sangha does regular joy and gratitude exercises to help us cultivate those attitudes. And in those moments, reflecting on the week or the day, I can find sources of joy and gratitude. But I am also constantly finding that I do not live those moments of positivity to the fullest. Not in the sense of clinging but in fully appreciating how meaningful those moments are. Why is it that when I reflect I can find positivity but miss them while they are present?

I know some of it is the result of that sense of personal unworthiness that the teacher of our sangha and Sharon talk about. In our modern culture we are encouraged to be dissatisfied so we will consume to fill a void. Or we are encouraged to cultivate a sense of material unworthiness in relation to others. I remember a friend who had a beautiful house in a lovely old neighborhood. But she spoke of a sense of dissatisfaction because she had visited several friends with new, giant homes in suburbia. She felt like a failure.

In this contemporary environment finding positivity in our own experiences or in the experiences of others, it seems to me, becomes more difficult. In part, it is breaking free of this mindset, one that steals so much from us, that leads me to so value Sharon’s message on positivity. To dwell fully in each positive moment is, for me, one key to moving away from this modern cultivation of eternal dissatisfaction. It is not a zero sum world until we make it one. My joy in a sunset does not take away from anyone else. And their pleasure does not diminish mine.

There is no competition in seeking our individual sources of positivity.

Rene

It is hard to change a lifetime of patterns and yet little by little the change is happening. When I first started meditating, it was pretty easy to connect to the breath and even the body. The emotions were a different story. Patterns had become ingrained over a life time. At one time, those patterns may have served a purpose – it was all I knew to do. If I was angry, I would clench my teeth, because I was taught not to be angry. if I was sad, I would fight back the tears, because “only babies cry”. The list would go on and on for each emotion, negative or positive. over time I developed the ability to discredit all my feelings.

I am learning it is okay to have feelings and express emotion. I now can note a feeling and emotion and, much of the time, I am able to observe and explore without getting caught in the net. I find this process easier with the negative emotions as I don’t want to dwell on negativity. with the joyful more positive emotions, I can be carried away with the pleasure and want to ride it out because it feels good.

Thanks to practice, little by little the change is happening. Do I do it perfectly? Of course not – after all it is practice and I am learning to be mindful of both the positive and negative. For that I am grateful.

~ Mars

Sharon’s tea meditation is very timely.

In January, after visiting our daughter, she suggested that I try matcha tea. I liked the flavour and the part about using a bamboo whisk in the preparation — which fit with my intention to drink more tea —  but primarily for the experience as opposed to the taste.

Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that I’d become a consumer rather than benefiting from a more reflective experience. And with more physical rather than mental experiences.

This went on for a week but, in my too-often lack of mindfulness, I did not see the connection between needing a Pepto Bismal chaser a few hours after having a cup of matcha tea. So, while I was achieving a bodily awareness in the process, it was hardly meditative.

My wife, in her wisdom, suggested I check for side effects from the tea. Sure enough, GI issues are #1 in the list I found. And she checked with our daughter about her consumption and found out that she is half-way through a tin of tea after 3 months. I finished a tin in 3 weeks. Not because I was drinking many more cups, but it turns out I was over-dosing on each cup rather badly.

What did I learn from this lesson of bodily (and mental) inattentiveness? First, that my good intentions to be more attentive and thoughtful; that I also need to pay more attention to the effects — both good and bad; and, lastly, that received wisdom continues to be a very important for both my practice and for my well-being.

The skills and methods are observable and tangible, but the truth is not. The challenge is not to get carried away by the cup.*

with mettā, Rod

*http://www.lionsroar.com/what-makes-you-a-buddhist/

It is not until attempting to bring mindfulness into my daily routines that I realized how often my mind is absent from my tasks. It is almost as if my body is on autopilot and my mind has its own agenda.

In much the same way I have automatic responses to thoughts and feelings that I am often unconscious of and move through with the same kind of absenteeism. When I bring mindfulness to even the most mundane activities not only do I find joy in simple tasks but I also find insight into my patterns of behavior and the thoughts that drive them.

Bringing my attention to one task at a time reminds me to slow down, be present, and find a sense of fulfillment in my daily life, but more importantly it gives me the pause needed to switch off the autopilot and take control of my responses and choices in a gentle and purposeful way.

Heather

My usual practice, when I walk to work in the morning, is to plug myself in and listen to music or a podcast. But even then my focus is often distracted as I run through a to-do list for the day. Trying to determine which task to tackle first. This morning I decided to try to make my journey a practice of walking mediation.

Walking down the sidewalk I begin by feeling my feet, one by one, touch the snow-covered pavement. I begin to focus on the sounds made by each step. A gentle thunk as my heel touches down followed by the crunch of my sole on the snow. Thunk, crunch. Thunk, crunch. Early morning and the streets are dark. Illuminated by street lights. As I turn left on to a street that will take me to the river I hear the sound of a snowblower. Thunk, crunch. I see a dark figure in a cloud of snow moving a handheld machine that blows the snow into the street. Thirty steps, thunk, crunch and I walk past. A few more steps and I reach the walk that follows the river to the bridge I will cross.

Thunk, crunch. An older woman, mummified in winter gear, jogs past me. Cars, their bright lights shining in my eyes, pass a few feet away. The sound of a vehicle struggling to start. Thunk, crunch. Another 100 steps.

I reach the top of the walk way across the bridge. Another mummy. A man with a scarf wrapped across his face with only a small crack showing his eyes. On the river I can see the lights outlining a moored boat used for summer river tours.

Listening to and feeling each step I walk across the bridge. I hear steps from behind and a young woman, a fob attached to her backpack flashing green, yellow and red lights, passes me. For a second I have the urge to speed up. To engage in some strange competition. I return my focus to the sound of thunk, crunch. The feel of the ground.

Cars and buses pass by on the other side of a low concrete barrier. Their tires crunch on sand that has been spread to decrease the chance of slipping.

At the bottom of the bridge I curve to the left to follow a path which passed beneath the bridge. Under the bridge the path is free of snow. The sound of my steps becoming a slightly louder thunk without a crunch. Then the thunk, crunch returns as I come up from under the bridge.

My concentration moves away from my steps as I need to cross a street with busy traffic. Traffic that halts with the push of a button that triggers a walk light. Back on the sidewalk I find the thunk, crunch again as I walk beside a small park. Rabbit tracks run into the park. A cold breeze moves across my face.

I walk beside the park finally crossing into it to pass into darkness. The lights of the parking lot beside my workplace tell me that I am five minutes away from my destination. Accompanied by the sounds of each step I cross the parking lot to the door of my building.

Unlike my usual robotic walk this morning I arrive awake. Each sensation of my walk noted in the moment. Grounded, literally, in each step.

Rene

Being active means a constant stream of low to middling aches and pains, especially as you get older. But the body doesn’t mean those to be a signal to stop moving – it’ll tell you in unmistakable terms if things are that serious. Aches and pains are simply suggestions about the kind of activity it prefers at the moment (might not be a great day to go skiing, what with the left arm in a cast and all, so lets go for a run instead). When my mind interprets those signals as an excuse to get onto the things it’d rather be doing, I find moving meditation an excellent means of getting direct input from my body. And my body is almost always saying “Get off your butt and move”.

In fact, awareness turns many of those aches and pains turn into familiar companions, almost reassuring. The pain in the knee you tore jumping off a roof when you were twelve (an admittedly silly thing to do, but it’d have been even sillier to spend a life not trying things like that on occasion) is now just a reminder that your knee still works; you’d miss the pain of movement if you’re ever bed ridden for a long time. The tiredness after a long workout brings happy memories of pushing physical limits when young and fit – and the realization that although age means being able to do less and taking longer to recover, the body finds the same joy in as was there in childhood. The mind spins a story of loss and inevitable deterioration and death; the body knows the joy of the present moment is enough. Moving meditation lets it share that with you.

~ Olaf

I don’t find the body scan easy. It is easier if I am well rested and feel good about myself. I grew up in a world of body shaming. There wasn’t a part of my body that was not criticized and attempts made to alter the flaws. I sometimes wonder if those who were valued as children have an easier time. And of course at this time of my life, there is the aging body.

I have discovered that when practicing the body scan, if I am carried away on a wave of self criticism, I can make a couple of choices. The first is to explore where the message came from and if it is valid. It only takes seconds for me to realize that it is not true and that I am fine just the way I am. The second way I can deal with the small self-critical voice is to switch my focus. If it is a practice where I am tired and feel vulnerable and I can’t seem to let go of the messages, it is OK to move out of the body scan and interject some modified metta phrases or revert of a focusing on my breath. After all, it is my practice. Generally speaking it only takes a couple of loving phrases or a few breaths for me to come back to the body.

I am a long way from being totally free from the past and my body will continue to age. Despite that, now that I have developed some tools for managing the messages, I find the body scan easier. Some days when the practice ends, I realize I have made it from head to toe without interruption. When I recognize this, it feels like I have just given myself a big hug!

Warmly, Mars

This week’s focus on Mindfulness of the Body and today’s guided meditation by Sharon on sensation have created several dilemmas for me.

First was that I’m not overly aware my body — even though I practice mindfulness, yoga, tai chi. So why is this? Denial? Suppression? Or nothing more complicated than a lack of awareness?

Second, was that too much exertion in several yoga classes at the start of the week resulted in my being only too aware of bodily discomforts. With the resulting woe-is-me’s that I’m getting old. And, are these are symptoms of something worse? Lung cancer? Tuberculosis?

So I missed a couple of days of yoga, took a couple of ibuprofen, rested, and went to bed early last night.

Today, I awoke early enough to sit and take in the 6:30 am yoga class. Before starting, I mentioned to the teacher the aches I’d experienced and that I’d dial it back a bit today in class. She adjusted the class accordingly, as did I, and all is well. Physically. But what about mentally? Having listened to Sharon’s lesson before yoga class about sensation meditation, I tried to be aware.

Coming from where I’d been through the week so far with my enthusiasm/exertion in class and then my misgivings, doubts, and fears, perhaps I was more aware this morning’s class about my body. But none more-so than during savasana. Corpse pose. And what that means in terms of bodily sensation and awareness. So, going from lots to be aware of to trying to relax, it went further, to “What will my body be doing once breathe becomes air?” My immediate reaction was that it’s not really that a big transition in terms of time or space.

One second, you’re there.

The next? I’m not sure where. But it wasn’t with premonition or worry about what’s next.

BUT,  I was convinced that I still need to feel alive and more importantly, be more aware of the life I have, now.

“Its not stress that kills us, it is our reaction to it.” ~ Hans Selye

 ~ Rod