Getting caught up in the story

I have dabbled in meditation off and on for the last 12 years or so, ever since my friend, Kristin, and I took a short workshop in Zen Buddist meditation. At the time, we found the whole thing quite amusing, from our confusion over the name of the teacher (was it Seisen Sensei or Sensei Seisen?), to the awkward slow shuffle they called walking meditation, to what turned out to be our favourite instruction (Don't get caught up in the story!), which we still use regularly to this day.

Since that workshop, my on-again, off-again relationship with meditation has led me to explore a variety of techniques. Gazing at a candle flame. Counting my breath. Repeating various mantras. Visualizing the chakras. All of these methods are said to have the potential to bring you to your final goal: enlightenment.

Well, I’m still nowhere near enlightenment, but I keep plugging away with this meditation business all the same. After all, it’s about the journey and not the destination. We’re not supposed to be attached to the results.

So I sit on my cushion, close my eyes, and follow my breath. I find that this is the simplest way to center myself and slow down the steady stream of thoughts. Sometimes I add in a mantra. Sometimes I ask for guidance on an issue in my life and listen quietly for an answer. Sometimes I get an answer. More often than not, my mind is too busy thinking random thoughts to hear the answer or even to clearly ask the question.

People always tell me that they can’t meditate because their minds are too active. They just can’t stop thinking. Like Kristin and I like to say, they keep getting caught up in the story. Well, join the club! Most of us have busy minds and have trouble finding stillness and silence, especially those of us who are meditation newbies.

But that’s why we practice. With practice, we find more moments of stillness, and those moments come to us more readily. We learn to notice the thoughts the moment they arise, and then allow them to float away like clouds and return to the breath. And we enjoy the benefits of those often fleeting moments of non-thinking, of simple being: the sense of peace, the relaxation, the clarity, the feeling of deep connection with the Self.

It’s not a linear path. Some days the stillness comes more easily than others. Some days 20 minutes seems like an eternity, while other days the time flies by. Last week while sitting in meditation, I fell asleep, my head bobbing forward and jerking back suddenly as I struggled to stay awake. I finally gave up and lay down for a short nap.

In a 20-minute meditation session, it’s not uncommon for me to alternate between feeling restless, angry, sleepy, joyful, impatient, annoyed, sad, uncomfortable, and blissfully relaxed. I sit with numb legs and aching hips while my “monkey mind” plans dinner, worries about the kids, writes e-mails, wonders why I suck at meditation, and re-lives entire scenes from The Bachelor.

On a good day, I catch myself early before getting too deeply caught up in the story. I congratulate myself on how good I am getting at meditating, and then I kick myself for congratulating myself , and then I kick myself for kicking myself, and then…well, you get the idea. Eventually, I simply recognize the ego at work, take a deep breath, and let it all go.

Meditating is not easy. It can be a big pain in the butt (literally). But it’s all worth it for those few short moments of absolute stillness and the positive ripple effect they have on my daily life and relationships. I sit because in the end it makes me a happier, calmer, and more present person. Maybe one day I will reach enlightenment, but for now this is more than enough.