Tag: Stillness

Staying Present in Discomfort: Being Here When You’d Rather Not

Title image: Photo by Tolga Ulkan on Unsplash

~~~~~~
Thank you everyone for your patience during this time of my father’s passing from cancer and dementia. I have appreciated the quiet visit to my childhood home, supporting my mother and being comforted by close friends and relatives.
~~~~~~

There are times that the present moment is an uncomfortable place to be in.

That’s when things are not going well and you want the current situation to be over so that you can move past it and onto healing. But one could argue that this is exactly the time you need to sink even deeper into the present moment.

And even more important to get more granular and still. To observe what is going on even more closely. To understand the important of this very point in time, how it will never come again in the same way. And even in this discomfort there is something to learn, something to lean into, something to accept.

I felt this strain while my father was still in in-home hospice, declining at a pace that was both quick and slow depending on what you’re focusing on. It evoked an axiety in me: wanting to hold on to him and save him–but knowing that this was an impossibility. The tug of time is unrelenting, taking everything with it like a glacier or a tsunami that continues onward no matter what is in its way.

But this is also an opportunity to remember that the impermanence of life does not take away from the joy and beauty of it. Dropping down into what is happening right now, taking a front seat on top of that glacier/tsunami, and allowing everything to be here is the way to appreciate all of this.

So while I would rather that the things that were happening not be happening, I couldn’t stop them. I sat here trying to understand my feelings and allowing gratitude for my father’s long life to remain in the forefront. There was peace in knowing that he was living his last days at home, in familiar surroundings with my mother there.

I could have made all sorts of stories up about what he was feeling or thinking, but the reality is that I didn’t know. So I didn’t pretend and instead noticed the sounds around me, the feeling of the air on my skin and the knowledge that my father’s imminent passing unscored all the many things about him and my own life that I have to be thankful for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s easier to ignore reality and think about other things, but that doesn’t help us deal with them.

In the Midst of “Breast Cancer Pink”, Finding Stillness: A Meditation

As you’re probably aware by now, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. For breast cancer patients and recent survivors, seeing all that pink around can be a little stressful.

Yes, it’s important to maintain awareness that 1 out of 8 women in the United States will be diagnosed with breast cancer at some point in their lives. Those of us who have already been…well, it would be nice to forget about it once in a while.

One out of 8 is a lot of pink!
(Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash)

So for this post, I want to offer you a very simple meditation. No prep needed.

Pause where you are right now and become still. Right where you are.

Notice how your body feels in the space that you’re inhabiting. What sensations do you feel most strongly?

The expansion and contraction of your ribcage with your breath?

The contact points of your body on the surface where it rests?

Perhaps a pesky little ache somewhere, in your joints, muscles or around an incision?

Tingling in your fingers or toes?

Are you gripping anywhere? If you notice tension somewhere in your body, very very slowly see if you can soften it. It’s okay if it doesn’t release completely – imagine that part becoming heavy and pliable.

And then see what other physical sensations make themselves known to you.

Stay with your body. There might be a lot going on in your mind right now, but that’s “up there” in your head.

Here. Stay down here.
(Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash)

We are down here in your physical being. Feel the stillness that exists here, not agitated by your thoughts. It’s okay if there’s noise in your mind, like if you lived on the floor below a bustling office. All those workers up there, getting their stuff done.

You can hear them, moving about, speaking in muffled tones, keeping busy. That’s all okay. They can be there.

But we’re all hanging out in stillness down below, with distance between what’s going on here and what’s happening elsewhere. We have space.

How does it feel knowing that you have permission to be still? That you don’t need to drop everything and dash upstairs? The thoughts can wait. They’re not going anywhere. You have time.

Eventually, you’ll return to the hustle and bustle up there. But know that you can always take a break, come down into your body and sit in the stillness that is here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This October in particular is very busy for me. A big project at work, the holidays around the corner, prepping for guests while our apartment STILL awaits repairs. And then strange guilt that I’m not doing more yoga teaching. It’s a lot to manage in my head, all this piling on of responsibilities.

So that meditation up ^^^ there? Yeah, I needed that. ❤

Sinking into the Depths, but in a Good Way: A Meditation Visualization

As I return to really sinking down into my meditation practice, I am reminded of what I’ve been missing out over the past few months when my practice gradually changed and “shallowed”.

Due to pressures and stressors the start of this year, I had been skittering over the surface of my meditations, much as you would imagine barefoot skiing over the surface of a large body of water, and I use this as a visualization of my experience.

It is not fun trying to keep my head up and focused through my distractions.

Up on the surface, you have wind and waves to contend with. The more time that you spend up on top of the water, the more tumultuous distractions you find there and it becomes more difficult to find a sense of calm. The more you do that, the more it becomes habitual.

But when you stop charging across the surface — resisting the enticing attraction of thoughts — then you find yourself slowly sinking…but in a good way. Thrashing winds disappear, sounds become muffled and fade into the distance, movement slows. The deeper you descend, the more quiet you find there.

There are times that I think I’ve been meditating, only to realize that I’ve floated up to the surface and am actually bobbing around in the choppy waves of my thoughts. That realization comes more quickly the more time I’ve spent in the depths, and when I return to the process of sinking, it feels like such a relief.

The deeper I allow myself to descend, the quieter I become. It becomes less of a struggle to stay down.

I can learn to sit with frightening creatures the way I can learn to sit with unsettling thoughts…and vice versa.

And as I get progressively deeper, light dims. Initially, the darkness felt a little intimidating (I’m not a fan of dark water). But then I remembered, this is my ocean. I decide what dwells in the darkness. I can fill my ocean with fearsome, aggressive creatures — and sometimes I do this — but then because I realize that they are mine, they don’t hurt me and I am able to sit with them peacefully.

What an accurate analogy for our thoughts, no?

In this way I feel my own inner strength and power. The darkness does not have to be frightening — it is a gentle darkness that signals rest, allowing my mind to slow and focus inwards.

If that darkness is too disconcerting to you, imagine that there is a soft blue brightness in the water, illuminating your entire area of vision, and perhaps even an underwater staircase you can use to control your descent. Tweak it however you like so that it fits with your level of comfort.

This visualization is the perfect reminder of how good meditation feels when I don’t get in my way about it. Nothing to do but relax and let myself sink down…