Sharon’s lesson for Day 8 – Walking Meditation has an image with the caption “Mindfulness makes the ordinary things interesting.”

I noticed that during tonight’s sit.

As I was progressing through a body scan, my attention zoned in on the contact between the thumb and index finger of my right hand. How ordinary is that?!

But today, I found I was intensely aware of the sensations in that tiny area – tingling, pulsing, warmth, dryness, …

This ordinary, everyday contact suddenly became vivid, like the difference between watching someone’s home video of their grandkids versus a blockbuster movie at an IMAX theater.

In week two, as we engage in practices like the body scan, we are encouraged to notice our tendencies when things are pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral. Often, when things are neutral, I zone out and start planning what to do next or rehash some past issue.

By bringing curiosity and interest to the (usually) neutral experience of thumb and finger touching, I noticed pleasantness that I would have otherwise missed. There was a quality of quietness, peace, and tranquility, if only for a moment. But how nourishing that moment was!

I look forward to exploring this practice more this week.

May your week be filled with many interesting, ordinary things!

Warm wishes,
Andrea G

Today’s concentration practice was an interesting one for me.

Actively identifying each thought and feeling that pulled me away from my breath as “not the breath” was a new practice for me. It took me a few minutes of practice to even recognize how often my attention was drawn away from the breath by either thoughts, sensations or feelings. Often times it was not until my concentration drifted back to my breath that I even noticed that it had been drawn away by fleeting “not the breath” distractions.

By defining and categorizing all thoughts other than the breath as “not the breath” my mind was better protected from being carried away by my thoughts. However, at times it felt harsh and it was difficult for me to bring the same softness to my practice that I am accustomed to.

I look forward to playing with this practice. I think it will be especially useful on days that my mind is prone to wandering off to “not the breath”.

Heather R

On Saturday evening I attended a fundraising event put on by our local Unitarian community. The objective was to raise money to support refugee work by the Unitarians. A group of three musicians (in an unusual combination of piano, French horn and soprano voice) took us through a musical program ranging from classical to spiritual to show tunes to the Beatles. Money was raised and community refreshed. In addition to a range of musical genres we also being taken from emotion to emotion: sorrow, longing, laughter, joy and hope.

Because I have no musical or artistic talent whatsoever I always admire anyone who displays any talent and am usually in awe of those who display some degree of mastery.

As I listened to and watched the singer perform I suddenly thought of this week’s lessons by Sharon on connecting with the breath. For two of the performers, the horn player and the singer it is their connection with their breath and the relationship of that breath to other part of their bodies that allows them to deliver their program. I also felt like there was a connectedness between the three performers – a love of music and affection for each other.

This is the second year I have participated in Sharon’s “challenge”. This year and last I am reminded how it is important to go back to the foundation. To reflect on how I do, or do not, use my breath as the anchor. As with a singer or a horn player it can be a struggle, and it certainly is with me, to learn how to develop that intimate connection and focus on the breath to the point at which it is no longer a self conscious process but natural.

In their most sublime moments a performer seems to soar. To be connected with the moment so that they actually embody the soul of the work they are performing. The past dissolves and the future will be but in that moment all that is exists is their relationship to the music, their companion performers and the audience. Whatever feelings are there are just there. Correctly or not, thinking of myself as practicing mediation as an artist practices their craft is a rather empowering frame.

Rene

A key lesson of sport is that you get better at what you practice.

There are days practice goes extremely well; you’re motivated, everything clicks, and everything you try succeeds. And there are days when you’d rather be somewhere else, when nothing works as it should, when you’re constantly picking yourself off the ground (depending upon the sport, perhaps literally) and trying again.

One of the main differences between amateur and professional athletes is that a pro knows that while the occasional practice like the first is encouraging and of course fun, its the second kind that both mentally and physically builds champions. Its not that failure is good in itself – in fact our nervous system learns a new skill by repeated small successes. But if you’re always succeeding then you’re almost certainly not learning anything new.

Even an all time great like Michael Jordan emphasized he had to try and fail a new move a thousand times in practice before he might be able to apply it in a game. It’s a cliche in sport: to succeed, you have to be used to failing. It also happens to be true.

And perhaps even more importantly, if you’re not used to failing and retrying in practice, you’re unlikely to respond well to the inevitable failures of actual competition. Professionals search for a way to come back to win a championship even if they’re down by four goals with one period remaining, if they’re down three games to one in a best of seven final. And the advice of every coach to their players in that situation is always the same: take it one play at a time. If that play fails, let it go, and concentrate on the next fail.

Don’t waste time and energy berating yourself, failure is part of the game. Sometimes it’s bad luck, sometimes it’s bad circumstances, sometimes your opponent is just better on you that day, sometimes you’re just not playing to your normal standard. It’s irrelevant, you let it go and concentrate on the only thing you can affect – the next play. That is the lesson every professional athlete learns.

Sometimes it even works. Sometimes it doesn’t. You learn what you can from the loss, then move on to the next game. Or next season.

Masahiko Kimura, one of the greatest judo competitors of all time, said the secret of judo is simple. Fall seven times, get up eight. The extra stand-up is necessary, it’s the one that gets you out of bed and to practice in the first place. Whether you feel like it or not on that day is interesting, but largely irrelevant. If you want to do serious judo, you practice.

I was at a meditation retreat with Rowan Conrad where the question of what is practice came up. The answer that resonated with me was direct: practice is showing up and meditating. Nothing about succeeding, about enlightenment or peace or even calmness – it’s simply about being there and making the effort.

There are days when meditation flows effortlessly, and I enjoy them.

There are days when mindfulness comes easily, when I remember it in many of the little things that make up life. And there are days when my mind continuously wanders in meditation, when mindfulness is completely forgotten during the day. On such days I tell myself, “Good, you have a chance to improve”, remember Kimura, pick myself off the floor (figuratively of course) and return to the next breath. Because its the one that needs my immediate attention.

~ Olaf

Five weeks ago today I underwent a total knee replacement.

Just prior to the surgery, the anesthetist gave me the choice between having a general anesthetic (being put to sleep) or regional anesthetic (being frozen from the waist down). He said that “they” get better results with a regional. As I wanted the best result possible, I chose the regional.

When I was wheeled into the operating room I felt quite anxious. I knew that I would be hearing all the sounds of the surgery – the whirling of the saw, the pounding of the hammer but thought to myself, if there ever was a place to practice mindfulness of the breath it would be right now.

Once I was positioned on the operating room table, the anesthetist asked me if I wanted something (a drug) to help me relax. I told him not right away but if I felt I needed something I would let him know.

The surgeon spoke to me and said that he was optimistic everything would go well but to not hesitate to have drugs if I needed them. The surgery began – I took a deep breath and started to focus on my breath. I choice to focus my practice by feeling the breath in my abdomen. Throughout the surgery, I could hear the sound of the drill, hammer, and saws. I could hear the nursing staff and the surgeon talking but whenever I felt carried away by sound I brought myself back to the breath.

Sometimes I needed to use a word (in – out) to stay centered but for the most part, I was able to return to the breath over and over again. I don’t know how long the surgery lasted but before I knew it, I was wheeled into the Post Anesthetic Care Unit (Recovery Room).

What is remarkable to me is that I was able to undergo this relatively major surgery with no medications. My vital signs (blood pressure, pulse and respiration) stayed within the normal range throughout the surgery.

Could I have done this without mindful meditation and focusing on the breath? I don’t think so as 5 years previously I had my other knee replaced. That operation was quite a different experience – I needed medications to quell the anxiety. My blood pressure and pulse were elevated and the surgery seemed to last forever.

It is with gratitude to the practice of mindful meditation and focusing on the breath that I write this post today.

With warm wishes,

Mars

From a teaching I experienced (embodied, actually) while on retreat last summer in a birch grove by Anglin Lake, I placed my ear against an aspen while on retreat last week in the city.

The dharma talks at this retreat by our teacher, Adrianne Ross, were on the five faculties (faith, effort, concentration, wisdom, and mindfulness), so listening through a tree to the wind coming off the South Saskatchewan River in the heart of Saskatoon seemed a good test of me for Adrianne’s teachings of momentary concentration and the jhana factors.

The first factor in my concentration test, viveka (seclusion turning inwards; turning energy inwards; sitting under a tree) was simply a walking meditation in the trees during this silent retreat.

Each factor lead to the next, without planning or even my clear understanding of the steps – it just happened.

The second factor, vitaka (be here, be awake; initial connecting; bring energy here, now) was choosing a suitable tree with a smooth spot where I could place my ear against the trunk.

The third, vicara (stabilizing and sustaining; exploring with just enough energy), was my connection with the tree, being curious, and staying there.

Piti, or rapture, is the fourth factor. This was the settling into the tree and keeping a rapt attention to the sounds transmitted down the truck from the branches as they were blowing in the wind. Adrianne described piti as the whole body being filled with presence and awareness – just being here and now.

And a feeling of ease, or sukha, is the fifth factor. Again, as Adrianne taught, it was a unification with the tree, the wind, and my senses, which filled my body, creating ease and balance, with no need to be elsewhere.

Then the bell rang, calling me back…

But, in those brief moments, it was a very real and embodied experience of concentration. Just a moment. In the city. With lunch calling. But it was real.

I wondered on other walks during the retreat if the city wind had a colour, but I wasn’t there yet.

I look forward to being at Anglin Lake again to learn more, including trying to sense:

What Color Is The Wind?

… to the bee, the wind is the warm color of the sun; the old dog, who perceives the world through smell, experiences it as “pink, flowery, pale white”; to the wolf, it smells of the forest; for the mountain, the wind is a bird; for the window, it is the color of time.

with mettā, Rod

The Saskatoon Insight Meditation Community is pleased to have a great group of bloggers joining the 2017 Real Happiness Meditation Challenge. I’m happy to be part of the team again this year.

We just finished hosting a retreat with Adrianne Ross. One of the things we explored in that retreat aligns with the topic of this first week of the challenge: concentration.

I know when I first learned about “concentration” in meditation, I thought I had to scrunch my mind up tight, and really, really focus on the breath – much like I might do if I was trying to concentrate on solving a tough programming problem at work. As Sharon reminds us in her week one post, the idea is to rest our attention lightly on the object of awareness.

In the retreat, Adrianne gave a wonderful analogy that helped me visualize this balancing between effort and concentration: holding out one hand, bring a finger from your other hand and just lightly make contact with your outstretched palm. That light touch is all the effort we need to do to connect with the breath. Then we try to sustain that connection, that light touch. We’re not trying to push too hard, and we don’t want to space out and lose contact.

We’re connecting and sustaining attention.

It sounds simple… but it’s not easy. There I was, on the fourth day of this retreat, and my mind kept flitting away. “What’s for lunch?” “How icy are the sidewalks after the freezing rain?” “Why did I say that silly thing the other day?” And noticing frustration arise: “Why am I so bad at meditation?!” If I was using the analogy of the finger touching the palm of the other hand, my finger would float off a bit, and return, and fly far away, and return, and when frustration got mixed in, then I might jam that finger hard onto the other hand, pushing it away.

So I remind myself: This is a practice. This is what frustration feels like in this moment. I wasn’t frustrated before, and I won’t be frustrated later – things change.

Every moment is a chance to have a fresh start.

And so I settle again. A light contact with the breath. And again. It’s a practice.

I look forward to practicing with you as we embark on this month-long challenge together.

With best wishes,
Andrea G

Hello everyone,

The Saskatoon Insight Meditation Community is pleased to be blogging for the 28-Day Meditation Challenge in 2017.

We are a community of practitioners in the Vispassana (Insight) meditation tradition, located in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. Our community is lead by Jeanne Corrigal. With her encouragement, we have had an engaged group of bloggers the last two years. Again, in 2017, we are excited to have another group from our sangha joining in. Through sharing our experiences, successes, and challenges, it is our hope that we can encourage our fellow sangha members, both locally and around the world, to begin a regular meditation practice, or to deepen their practice.

Our sangha just hosted a residential retreat with Adrianne Ross, and she reminded us as we return to our daily lives, that mindfulness is a practice that we can begin again in this moment. Every moment is a fresh start. Inspired by that spirit, we are looking forward to sharing this practice with you.

– Andrea G, Heather R, Mars F, Olaf D, Rene R, and Rod O