The first time I ever meditated was at a Buddhist temple in Cleveland. I was fulfilling an assignment for my “World Religions” class and attended a service there. I remember the Buddhist priest carrying a stick to keep practicioners honest. He was wielding it to ensure they stayed awake during the meditation and would gently hit their backs if he saw their posture slump. I was keenly aware of what was happening and made sure that I was not going to be one of the ones he tapped.
I remember the short sermon the priest gave talking about meditation. He posed the idea that mediation is an act of dying to yourself and the day. That stayed with me. The central questions of the talk were, 1. How do we give ourselves to life and 2. How do we attune to the demands of the day through the act of dying to ourselves?
What an interesting concept, the “act of dying to ourselves.” I have since heard this phrase in other world religions and have seen similar theology in Christianity. Some theologians pose that Jesus’ calls us to take up our crosses and die to ourselves, annihilating the ego that is standing the way of our true Christ nature.
I remember coming home from the experience and telling my mother how valuable it was to sit in silence. I told her I could see myself adopting that practice in the future. As is the case with some things, that quickly left me as I was engaged in the act of living and didn’t make time for it.
I never knew the value of peace and quiet until I started meditation many years ago. It was the greatest gift a friend taught me.
This friend inadvertently taught me the act of dying to myself. I was so disturbed by life; waking, achieving to survive, making a living and repeating the cycle, so much so that I lost myself in the hustle. Prayer was a rote experience. I learned that meditation inspires a true reckoning of being sacred.
I did whatever I could to distract myself from quiet and had no idea I was doing it. Whether I was conscious of it or not, I believed that quiet forced me into a box I didn’t want to be in. This box was where I would be faced with realities about myself that I may not have wanted to face. The box forced me to be alone with myself, something that I was also unwilling to admit at the time.
I have also witnessed this in teenagers. It’s very hard for some to sit still. It may be that the hormones are still raging or that they are subconsciously scared to face themselves alone with their problems that bubble to the top in the act of sitting still. I’ve tried to combat this as a teacher by giving them mandalas to color or allowed them to find a different mindfulness practice.
Now, as a result of my daily quiet, I feel the world in new ways. I perceive things clearer than I have in the past. I am dazzled by the simplicity of things. Quiet establishes a context for inner being. I feel stronger and I’m able to face the world on my own terms through the conviction that I’m ready to face it at any given time. This has been tested in my life with the loss of those I loved.
It’s still very hard to get quiet sometimes, but I’ve found some great guided meditations to help me find my way back to the quiet.
Sometimes I’ll listen to the rain on video. The steady flow of water helps me find my way to quiet as I attune to the peaceful calm of nature.
It was raining today, and I find myself going to my favorite chair to sit and listen to it. I sit in quiet and let the trickling drops of rain have their way with me. They stutter and stop, and the sun steps out for a few but the rustle of wind keeps things alive for me.
Peace is the most promising prospect in life – it will arrive to everyone at some point, whether we like it or not. Those disturbed by quiet will have to face it nonetheless. Better to learn it now than later. Learn how to absorb the stillness. Learn how to bath in the comfort of quiet like a soothing bath. Learn how to wash away distraction and focus on the sensorial comfort of being present.
spirit beat 