Taming the Monkey Mind: Days 3 & 4

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I have always found that I meditate better in the morning. I am one of those strange freaks of nature who wakes up at 5:00 a.m. (or earlier) and is wide awake and, even worse, perfectly perky even before the first sip of coffee touches my lips. Sick, I know. Of course, the other side of this coin is that I get tired early. And I mean early. I can actually go to bed before 9:00.

The result of all this is that I prefer to mediate in the morning. My mind is fresh. I find it easier to focus. And, it is also when I need to relax as I tend to plan my day as soon as I hear the first tones of my alarm. Afternoon or evening meditation for me is a struggle as I am more sluggish and unfocused.  I have rarely deviated from meditation in the morning.  Today was one of those deviations.

Today, I practiced a series of mini-meditations as I explored the city around me. Moments of mindfulness were found in the gardens, in the art museum (where they even had portable meditation benches), and in Vulcan park overlooking the city. I found it easy to slip into the right state of mind quickly, although I did not sustain it for long.

I returned to my hotel room after a day’s adventures. I was tired, fatigued, questioning if I could summon the energy to enjoy an evening out. I decided to meditate for 20 minutes, thinking that would be the end of my evening. Unexpectedly, it left me feeling refreshed and energized and ready for more. Maybe meditation is not just for morning after all.

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A Beautiful Day of Contrast

Posted on by stilllearning2b

A Road Re-traveled

The particular stretch of interstate 20 between Alabama and Georgia bookended my marriage.  In our early years, we traveled the road when we moved from Texas to Georgia.  We packed our entire lives into a 15 foot Ryder truck.  I sat crammed in the front seat, the cat, drugged into slumber, in her crate under my feet and our pug sitting on my lap, barking at every overpass.  We were young, overjoyed to be reunited after 7 months apart, and filled with excitement over our future.  We made most of the journey in one 22 hour push (slow going thanks to the governor on the truck and the car towed behind).   We finally stopped for a brief respite at the Alabama-Georgia border, stealing a few hours of sleep while we waited for the Atlanta traffic to clear.

The next time I traveled on I-20, my marriage was over and I was undertaking a journey to place one of its innocent victims, our youngest dog, with new owners.  The tone of that drive was very different; I still had a dog on my lap, but this time it was one I was saying goodbye to.  We made the transfer at the same rest station where my husband-to-be and I had stopped 11 years prior.  The same welcome center that greeted my married life signaled the loss of the same.

Today, I traveled that highway for a third time.  Today, the road held no particular meaning.  Today, the rest stop simply was a place to stretch and get a drink.  Today, the road carried me not into a new life, but simply to a new city for a weekend.  A city that is as filled with contrasts as that road was for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twin Tables

My first stop upon entering Birmingham was the botanical gardens.  I was immediately smitten with the naturalistic eye of the designers.  Unlike the Atlanta gardens, this park is not filled with carefully cultivated and perfectly placed plants.  The herbaceous growth was allowed to get a little wild, to grow unrestrained in places.  It was a delight to see the freely spreading phlox and trilliums ignoring the boundaries, coloring outside the lines.

I grinned in delight as I entered the fern grotto.  Ferns have always been one of my favorite plants, they seem to lower the air temperature 10 degrees simply with their presence and they always fill me with a sense of calm and peace.  On the bridge, overlooking the ferns, I met an elderly gentleman who visited the park every day.  He had lived in Birmingham his entire life and told me stories of the area and of the garden while he led me on my own impromptu tour of the park.

We came upon a large stone table.  He mentioned that this was his gratitude table and that every time he passed it, he paused to give thanks.  I was surprised to hear this from him, as he seemed to be a stoic southern man of a certain generation, who does not speak of this such as emotion.  He then proceeded to shock me further by describing an encounter he had one day at that table.  While he was giving thanks, a young nun in a full habit came up.  They entered into conversation and he mentioned his view of the table.  She laughed, and said that she had always viewed the table as a sacrificial altar where she would pause to surrender.  One table, two views.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Civil Rights & Hillbillies

In the city center and the art museum, there were signs everywhere of the city’s complicated past with human rights and desegregation.  Based upon this, I expected to find a city still stuck in the Old South.  Although I have seen elements of that, I have also been surprised at the liberal side of the city bleeding through the fabric of tradition.  I stumbled upon a lovely St. Patrick’s Day parade in the Five Points neighborhood.  It had a small town charm, with the requisite cars full of the city’s young beauties and not-so-young makers and shakers and waving at the crowd.  I roared with laughter when an Old Alabama truck came by, complete with a character straight out of the Beverly Hillbillies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My laughter was soon swallowed in shock as I realized that an exuberant drag queen was prancing behind the pickup truck, followed by Birmingham’s very own gay pride group.  The crowd’s cheers grew even loader.  My jaw dropped even lower.  This is certainly not the old South.  The civil rights movement here continues on…

Celtic Southern Vegans

I plan to end my lovely day with some further contrasts.  I am going to hear Celtic music at a vegan/vegetarian venue in this Southern town.  I can’t wait to see what I find next…

Days like this remind me that life cannot be neatly categorized.  People and places are neither black nor white, but exist in the spaces between.  It is another reminder to let go of expectations and see the world with wide-eyed wonder.

Tabula Rasa Redux

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Piece of chalk and blackboard
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The end of my marriage has led to some new traditions for me.  One of those is the need for a periodic wiping of the slate, a tabula rasa of sorts where I disengage from my normal surroundings for a brief period and ensconce myself in a new environment surrounded by strangers.  I feel pulled to do this, an itching that consumes me until I make the arrangements.

Part of this need is simply a break from my normal routine.  My daily life is very scheduled and planned.  As a teacher, one day looks much like the next and my days are broken down into almost-identical segments separated by a bell.  Outside of school is not much better, as I have to carefully plan workouts, menus, newsletter writing, and shopping lists to make sure that everything happens.  Sometimes, I just need a break where I do not have to think about next week’s menu or tomorrow’s lesson plan.  I need to be able to flow through the day, unconcerned with the arrival of second period or getting to the store before the post-church rush. A new environment with no one to care for but myself allows me to be in the moment without having to plan for the next.

I also enjoy the anonymity of these trips.  The blank box of a hotel room, navigating through crowds alone, slipping through the town leaving only the traces I choose, all give me a sense of freedom.  It is a time for reflection and rebirth.  My spirit and creativity feel refreshed by the lack of definition.  It gives me a chance to see myself without the decorations of daily life.

My need for adventure is also satisfied through these jaunts.  I enjoy exploring a new environment, exposure to new sights and sounds.  There is not much opportunity in my daily life to stimulate curiosity, so I try to inoculate with a large dose periodically.

This blank slate trip is an over-nighter to a nearby city, deferring to time and money constraints.  It is a city I have driven through, but never visited.  It is nothing special, but it is new to me.   I hope to visit the botanical gardens and the art museum.  I want to run the trails of a nearby state park and enjoy the springtime vistas.  I desire to walk the “funky” shopping streets, as I thrive off the energy in those areas.  I may venture into a venue for live music, or I may spend the evening in meditation.  It doesn’t matter. I can flow with my rhythm and not worry about an agenda.

So here goes tabula rasa redux IV, where I can clean off the residue of daily life and emerge refreshed and invigorated.

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Clean Up, Aisle 5

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I received a notice in the mail yesterday that I have to report to court to settle one of the financial messes that my ex left behind. I have known that this was coming, but that does not make its arrival any easier.

I’m angry. Angry that he continues to dodge his responsibilities while I, as a tax-paying citizen who holds a job and a valid driver’s license, gets to deal with the mess he so casually left behind.

I’m anxious. Even now, almost three years out from the initial blow, I’m still half-waiting for another explosion.

But, most of all, I feel ashamed. I don’t know why, but this is my response when I feel like people are judging me, even when their assumptions are untrue. These people don’t know anything of my story, nor do they care. I want to walk in there, head held high, with the “innocent spouse” letter from the IRS fastened to my collar, an anti-scarlet letter. I want them to know that I am the one cleaning up the mess, not the one who left it there in the first place.

But, I guess it doesn’t matter. Part of marriage is cleaning up after your spouse. My clean-up duties just happen to extend beyond the matrimony. I’ll walk in there, keep my story to myself, and take care of business, leaving me with one less of his messes to clean up.

Taming the Monkey Mind: Days 1 & 2

Posted on by stilllearning2b

These first two meditations were simple. In theory. Each one was 20 minutes of focusing on the breath. In practice, not so simple.

I came to a realization. I know that trying to tame my monkey mind through force will backfire, for that primate is stronger than me. I knew that the way to teach it was through patience and practice, but today it finally clicked what that really means.

I have been approaching my mind like I was training a 7 month old puppy to sit. With a dog of that age, there are expectations which lead to frustration when to the dog does not obey. “Don’t you get this already?” you want to scream at the dog.

I realized instead that I need to approach my mind as though I was training a 7 week old puppy to sit. At that age, it would be foolish to have expectations of the dog being able to hold a position for long. Rather, you gently push the puppy’s back end down repeatedly. Patiently. There is no frustration when it gets up and happily waddles over to you. After all, it is a puppy, what can you expect. With good humor, you simply place it back in position. Of course, over time, this young puppy will be able to stay in position for longer and longer periods until it is habit.

English: A puppy with a Kong Wubba, a Kong pro...
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I am going to hold that image in my mind, placing my focus back on my breath as though I was placing a young puppy back in place.  Hopefully, one day my mind can learn to sit still too.