Tag: Allowing

Mindfulness 101: Avoiding Avoidance

There is, unfortunately, a trap that some people may fall into when practicing mindfulness meditation.

In the context of selecting a point of focus that anchors you into the present, there is that teensy possibility that someone just starting out with meditation might focus without equanimity.

Equanimity is the ability to maintain balance and a sense of calm in both good and bad situations. It is the acceptance that impermanence and suffering are a part of life, and it is the state of allowing all feelings to pass through you, observing them without judgement or expectations brought on by previous experiences.

Equanimity is being able to allow in both the good and the bad without getting dragged through it.

Allowing emotions in when you’re trying to stay calm and collected might seem a little counter-intuitive, but in fact, I consider it to be to goal of mindfulness meditation. That’s because the most important time to maintain a sense of inner peace is exactly when the proverbial sh!t hits the proverbial fan. Mindfulness meditation provides us with a safe space within which to practice just that.

The tendency, however, is to try to keep difficult emotions out. I myself encounter a lot of resistance when doing guided meditations that focus on bringing up uncomfortable thoughts, particularly in the evening, when I’m most susceptible to anything that might perturb my sleep.

However, not allowing those thoughts in can set up a pattern of avoidance, depriving us of the opportunity to learn to deal with them. And this avoidance can imbue difficult thoughts with even more power, as if they become the boogeyman lurking behind a door that we’re terrified to open. That’s not a good thing.

So how do we get around this?

Pick a good time to explore the stickier side of things; I would caution against the evening, when, as I mentioned above, bringing up tough feelings can agitate you and make it more difficult to fall asleep. Keep the environment quiet, comforting and safe, with gentle music in the background, if that suits you. I like mid-morning time and natural light, with a cup of tea or cacao or anything else that feels soothing.

Choose your anchor: your breath, a bodily sensation like tingling in your hands, a constant sound in the the background…even lofi music from YouTube.

If you feel too drifty, keep your eyes open to help ground you. Perhaps focus them on an object that brings you peace, such as the photograph of a loved one or an image of a peaceful place.

Give yourself a calm opportunity to explore complicated emotions.

Breathe deeply and pay attention to gripping or tightness in your body, especially forehead, jaw, neck, shoulders and belly. Consciously release any areas that seem to clench as you go along.

And then allow whatever comes up to come up. Observe them…and then let them go. No need to analyze or justify. Imagine that you’re made of Teflon and those uncomfortable images slide off you.

If needed, sit further away from them. When the intensity gets too high, you might need space, so imagine that they are flowing past as if you’re on the bank of a river and they are the leaves that float by on the surface of the water. They come and they go and you breathe deeply through it all.

As you practice, maintain your focus the best that you can. The point of your focus is not the thoughts, it’s the breath or whatever other anchor you might have chosen. This way, the thoughts move independently and subside as smoothly as they appeared. If you find yourself getting stuck, return to your anchor and remind yourself that in this moment, you are safe.

IMPORTANT: If your thoughts are tied to trauma or the intensity seems unbearable, please seek out the help of someone professionally qualified to help you deal with them. Mindfulness meditation is a wonderful tool, but sometimes it’s not enough.

We’ll See What Happens…

As the saga of our building’s leaky pipes continues, this experience reminds me of some of the best advice I received for getting through my cancer treatment.

How could cancer relate to a plumbing emergency? In how I perceived the news and possible outcomes. My cancer diagnosis was terrifying because I had grown up understanding that the disease meant difficult treatment and a real possibility of death. Now that I was dealing with cancer, I was jumping to conclusions, driven by FEAR.

And the leak in our unit? That meant a huge disruption in our lives as workmen enter and our belongings are piled together. But even more so, FEAR of the future, as we didn’t know the extent of the damage and whether we’d be able to to keep living here.

Getting a first glimpse of restoration. Lost some ceiling, light fixtures and a lot of kitchen cabinets.

The thought of moving brought anxiety about higher rental rates, dealing with belongings after nine years in the same apartment, even simply fear of change and uncertainty.

But that best bit of advice that I mentioned above? I found that it applied well to this situation also. And it goes like this: don’t try to tackle everything at once; take it bit by bit.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, the experience was nothing if not overwhelming. So many new terms, treatment options, possible outcomes. It was too much to handle. Someone I worked with suggested that I deal with things on a day to day basis. Not obsessing about the future, only what I needed to get through for today.

This was not easy for me, as being FEARful came naturally to me. But I understood what he was saying, even if I struggled to actually follow this advice at the time.

As with cancer, so with plumbing. My mind had already “gone there”, struggling to afford another unit (this is an older unit with rent lower than other places around us), staying up day and night to pack. Ending up in an even worse situation with inconsiderate neighbors…

But reality was not like that.

Behold, the FORCE AIR 2000EC! This monstrosity is the heart of the asbestos abatement operation. The workmen couldn’t fit it back in their truck so we’re babysitting it for a couple of days. Also, it looks like it was built by orks, but that has nothing to do with anything.

Within a weekend we had moved much of the kitchen and dining area. And really overhauled our possessions — even something as complicated as draining our 20-gallon fishtank and relocating its inhabitants to my husband’s office was not as difficult as anticipated.

I had time. I had time to move things, I had time to reorganize, to declutter, to stop and think about what was next. I had time because it wasn’t all happening at once. Stopping and breathing and noticing all the space around gave me space inside my head.

Discussions with our landlady suggested that we would take it one day at a time. No one was throwing in the towel yet…

…and even if the worst case scenario happened and we had to move, there were other places that were available (all with air conditioning, which we don’t currently have), and the rental cost would have been similar to what we pay now. In some cases the places were newer and most allowed pets (!), which I’ve been longing for.

All of a sudden, things didn’t look that bad. The options seemed promising.

Taking it bit by bit gave back a sense of control. All those fears slowly fell away.

And now, I find myself hovering with acceptance. Not landing on an expectation that THIS or THAT will happen. I don’t know what will happen and I’m finding a comfortable place to simply hang here, not gripping or holding on or needing for anything to be different.

We’ll see what happens…