Beep, Beep

This from the Venerable Henepola Gutaratana: "Repeated practice in meditation establishes this function as a mental habit which then carries over into the rest of your life.  A serious meditator pays bare attention to occurrences all the time, day in, day out, whether formally sitting in meditation or not.  When you are meditating, then your focus will be the formal object of meditation.  If you are not in formal meditation, it will be just a pure application of bare attention itself, just a pure noticing of whatever comes up without getting involved.  Meditation is at one and the same time both bare attention itself and the function of reminding us to pay bare attention if we have ceased to do so."

This has only recently begun to make sense to me.  When I meditate, I'm trying to become aware of a thought that's trying to pop into my mind the split second before I actually think that thought.  This is not natural or intuitive.  I prefer to put myself either in the category of "I'm paying attention to my breath" or "I'm thinking about this thing."  I am also very aware of external sounds which compel me to quickly construct a story, a narrative, around the sound.  Sometimes the sounds are soothing (e.g., waves rolling onto the beach) and a perfectly acceptable meditation technique is just to listen to the sounds while trying to remain present.  Sometimes they're jarring and disruptive (e.g., someone running a leaf blower so that they can corral every fucking leaf within a hundred miles of their property line) in a way that reminds the meditator they can meditate somewhere quieter.  Mindfulness, however, takes a slightly different approach: concentrate on your breath or think a thought or perceive the thought right before it reaches your consciousness.  The first two actions make perfect sense while the last . . . action? . . . condition? . . . is in the realm of some New Age hippie crap and more of a sense than an action.  

As with many things in my life I have found that when I try my best at something I don't naturally want to do then I act in a kind, satisfying, healthy manner in my real, human life.  When I'm having a frustrating meditation session I find myself thinking: "What a waste of my valuable time."  Then, sometime later, I'll respond in a way that surprises myself, and this I attribute partially to my practice.  For instance, when someone honks their car horn at me I used to either get angry and react furiously or it would upset me, their behavior would upset me, and I'd internalize it and carry it with me the rest of the day.  Now I quickly decide if I'm at fault and, if so, I wave an apology at the other driver, or I shrug it off and let it go immediately.  I don't internalize the behavior of someone else.  The nice thing, of course, is that I don't spend 50% of my time behind the wheel of a car driving like an asshole so it's uncommon when someone expresses auditory displeasure with me.

That's the good thing.  There's probably a bad thing in there, too, but I can't remember what it is.

In The Vault

I'm in a place in my life and my sobriety where the Native American meditation book I'm reading is really, really resonating.  I like the definition of "resonate," too.  Resonate: To have particular meaning or importance for someone.  I think in physics resonation means that the movement of one object produces a similar movement in another object.

Anyway . . .  "But anyone has to take care that a little success does not weaken effort or steal initiative.  Persistence must be our constant companion for however long it takes and for whatever it requires of us, to keep stretching our limits, refining our spirits, renewing our minds."

One of my A.A. daughters - a remarkable woman who has made so much progress so quickly in her first fifteen months - found that her increasingly busy life - and the weariness that can come from much activity - was edging out her meeting attendance and recovery work.  I understood.  I did not like it much as this can be a slippery slope.  I kept my mouth shut.  I noticed, after a bit, that she was showing up more often, and when I remarked on this, she affirmed a renewed commitment to the effort she was putting in to her recovery.  This pleased me.  As did the fact that I didn't have to say or do anything.  A lesson learned all on our own is so much more powerful than one forced on us.  If I ride with someone to an unfamiliar location I'm unable to duplicate the route when I'm alone but if I drive it myself?  In the vault.

Contented Seaweed

Here's some wisdom from the Twelve and Twelve:

"How persistently we claim the right to decide all by ourselves just what we shall think and just how we shall act.  We are certain that our intelligence, backed by willpower, can rightly control our inner lives and guarantee us success in the world we live in.  This, or course, is the process by which instinct and logic always seek to bolster egotism, and so frustrate spiritual development."

I mean, c'mon, who's smarter than me?  Who's tougher than me? 

And the Cherokees, once again proving that spirituality crosses all barriers of organized religion and mystic philosophy, comment that "Confession may be good for the soul, but it seldom makes the one that heard it feel good.  If we feel the need to confess something, we should do it where the listener knows how to handle what we say.  It is an unthinking person that needs to be relieved of a burden to the point of putting it on someone who may find it hard to bear."

There's a line in our literature warning that unloading a detailed report of some extramarital adventuring onto an unsuspecting spouse is not a great idea.  It doesn't help to make ourselves feel better at the expense of someone else.  Our Steps remind us that we make direct amends, except where it may injure someone else.

The Twelve and Twelve again: "By now, the alcoholic has become convinced that he has more problems than alcohol, and that some of these refuse to be solved by all the sheer personal determination and courage he can muster.  The alcoholic has been persuaded, and rightly so, that many problems besides alcohol will not yield to a headlong assault powered by the individual alone."  This is in Step Three.  I'm always impressed at how frequently we're reminded that because alcohol is not the problem, but in reality only a symptom, then we need to be vigilant that we continue to attack the root of our drinking and not just the drinking itself, and that this takes a sustained and vigorous effort.

In case we weren't paying attention in Step Three the reminder comes up almost immediately in Step Four: "Without a willing and persistent effort to do this ('this' being working our asses off on maintaining our sobriety and our spiritual condition), there can be little sobriety or contentment or us."

Content: In a state of peaceful happiness; pleased with your situation and not hoping for change or improvement; a state of satisfaction.

Isn't this the goal, after all, to be at peace with your place in the world?  Not ecstatic or euphoric, just . . . content . . . accepting of the obstacles that will inevitably pop up and full of gratitude for all  the blessing that we enjoy?

Exertion

Exertion:  Vigorous action or effort.

The Twelve and Twelve spoke to me this morning:  "More sobriety brought about by the admission  of alcoholism and by attendance at a few meetings is very good indeed, but it is bound to be a far cry from permanent sobriety and a contented, useful life.  Nothing short of continuous action upon these as a way of life can bring the much-desired life.  All of the Twelve Steps require sustained and personal exertion to conform to their principles and so, we trust, to God's will."

The italics are mine.  The definition is Webster's.  When I read the Alcoholics Anonymous literature closely I'm often struck by how often concepts and themes are repeated over and over and over again.  I take to heart the idea that a contented, useful life is going to require a lot of work on my part and that, ultimately, it's my responsibility to do that work all by myself.  We rely on each other, certainly, but the Buck Stops Here.

What Is There . . . Is There

I'm moving towards the distant Shore of Total Serenity.  I'm not there.  I'm never going to get there.  But at least I can see that this ideal exists.  I wasn't able to grasp the concept that calming my mind, living more and more in the moment, focusing on myself and not others and when I do focus on someone else I do it with the understanding that it's better to love, to comfort, and to understand than the other way around.  One of the skills I learned in the sales game was to gauge my prospect's level of attention.  Often, I could tell that the person was preparing a response to whatever point I was trying to make, sometimes to dispute my pitch, often just because they wanted and needed and were habituated to think about themselves.  When I was in this situation I knew that I had to let it play out.  You can't listen well when you're thinking; especially when your thoughts are disputatious.  

In my slow rowing toward the Shore of Total Serenity I have finally started to grasp this crucial point: avoidance of painful or negative thoughts or feelings only feed the feeling, makes it grow stronger.  I know today - mind you, I'm not saying that I do this all the time, only that I'm more aware of it - that confrontation is what's important.  I have to look at the thing and see it for what it is.  I mention often the Crying Baby on an Airplane Syndrome.  I learned long ago that if I try to ignore the fucking baby or fantasize about throwing the fucking baby's parents off the fucking plane then I concentrate more and more on the disruption but if I listen to the noise, actively listen to it, then my brain starts to ignore it as a steady-state hum.  I know, it's totally illogical, but when I'm trying to suppress something then I'm feeding the wrong wolf.

And then we can relate this to our A.A. recovery Program by saying that " . . . you can't examine something fully if you are busy rejecting its existence.  Whatever experience we may be having, mindfulness just accepts it.  What is there is there."  

Paying Bare Attention

"Mindfulness is non-judgmental observation.  It is the ability of the mind to observe without criticism.  With this ability, one see things without condemnation or judgment.  One is surprised by nothing.  

Mindfulness is an impartial watchfulness.  It does not take sides.  It does not get hung up in what is perceived.  Mindfulness does not get infatuated with the good mental states.  It does not try to sidestep the bad mental states.  There is no clinging to the pleasant, no fleeing from the unpleasant.  Mindfulness treats all experiences equally, all thought equally, all feeling equally.  Nothing is suppressed.  Nothing is repressed.  Mindfulness does not play favorites.

'Sati' is 'bare attention.'  It is not thinking.  It does not get involved with thought or concepts.  It does not get hung up on ideas or opinions or memories.  It just looks.  Mindfulness registers experiences, but it does not compare them.  It comes before thought in the perceptual process.  Mindfulness stops one from adding anything to perception, or subtracting anything from it.  One does no enhance anything.  One does not emphasize anything.  One just observes exactly what is there - without distortion.  Mindfulness is awareness of change.  It is observing the passing flow of experience.  It is watching things as they are changing."

As part of my morning meditation I'm rereading this excellent book on mindfulness meditation for like the third time.  Because I use different types of highlighters to underline meaningful passages  I'm always amused to see what struck me as significant in the past and what didn't ring a bell at the time, particularly when a passage or paragraph stands out starkly on my second or third or seventh  reading.  The thoughts expressed above by the author were completely opaque to me in my previous readings but fairly screamed their importance this time.  I had no what he was talking about before but they really make sense this time.  Maybe my meditation practice has advanced to a point where I get what the dude is saying?  Progress made is often missed by the person making progress even though the growth is apparent to someone else.

Eh.  Who knows?

In The Moment - THIS moment, Right Here

"Suddenly the hour is gone - and it's anybody's guess what we did with it.  Did we enjoy anything?  Pleasant times are for a purpose.  They aren't just something to amuse us, but pleasure slows the heart, lowers the blood pressure, and give ease to the mind.  Something beyond the awareness tries to slow the human spirit from living so intensely."  

Sometimes trouble hides behind the look of serenity.  Sometimes in laughter - but nearly always in the way a person jokes.  It takes some understanding, some recognition or reckoning, to sense pain that is well hidden.

In this age of defending and demanding rights we're often faced with the question of who holds us back more than anyone else?  This is a trick question that isn't very tricky.  In all honesty we have to admit that we're the problem.  But good attitudes keep us moving and active and able to do everything without reacting to the smallest incident as a barrier in our way.  We're willing to work, to initiate and set in motion the  good of life, and do it by not stepping on others."