On Meditation

In light of our yoga and meditation retreat, I'm going to try and compile and condense some of the writing I've done on meditation practice into something comprehensible here. I've written pretty extensively on the topic, but have kept it largely to myself until now.

My practice of meditation has repeatedly come under fire as being irresponsible and aloof, and so I've done a good amount of writing trying to explain why I do it and what positive effects it has for the larger world, as I maintain it does. And of course, feeling like you have to justify your meditation practice because other people do not understand it is entirely anathema to the whole thing, I know. But the fact is that I practice meditation to be a better Christian and to be a more effective vehicle for living out the values of the Kingdom, and to work more effectively to create a better world. So I can not tolerate having this called "irresponsible" or "convenient," and so feel a necessity to clarify and explain for the sake of those who do not understand. If that shows a lack of understanding and maturity of practice on my part, I remind my readers that I am still just a toddler on this path.

A couple of months ago, I did a bit of a lexical study to explain meditation a bit. In the circles I associate with, we talk about Mindfulness Training ,and Meditation Practice. I think the words "training" and "practice" can go a long way toward explaining meditation.

Anything we do to deliberately cultivate mindfulness is considered Practice, and the implications of the word are pretty deep.

What does it mean to practice something? And why do we practice? When we practice something, we devote a lot of attention and effort to it so that, in time, we can do it effortlessly without having to think about it. Something we practice a lot becomes completely natural.

When I practice the guitar, I drill different scales and modes so that, when I have to, I can recall and play them accurately to complement a certain song or express a certain feeling. I do exercises to improve the speed, strength, accuracy, and dexterity of my hands and fingers to make my playing easier, more accurate, and more expressive. And, as every teenager knows, I practice alone in my bedroom so that I can one day rock Giants Stadium.

When we go to track practice, we do drills to improve our form so that our running is more biomechanically efficient and we can run faster and easier. Different workouts serve to increase muscle strength, flexibility, lactate threshold, cardiovascular and aerobic health, all of which will make our running more effortless. And again, I run alone around Lake Telemark and UC College so that I can eventualy win the New York Marathon.

In these examples, we practice by devoting very concentrated attention and effort to an activity so that we can be "better" at it; so that it becomes an effortless second nature. When my band has a performance or when I run a race, I do not have to worry about what my hands or legs are doing. I can enjoy the experience and know that my practice has prepared me for the performance. And in these examples, we practice in insular conditions so that our abilities can develop strong roots, and will be there when we need them in higher-pressure situations.

These analyses hold true for meditation practice too. When we meditate, we are practicing mindfulness (according to Thich Nhat Hanh, the world's foremost teacher of mindfulness, "keeping one's consciousness alive to the present reality"). We practice being aware of the reality of the present moment; we practice deeply seeing and understanding any situation, thought, or feeling that may arise. And like any other kind of practice, we devote concentrated time, effort, and attention to deeply experiencing and understanding reality so that, in time, we can do it without effort or conscious thought. We strengthen our mindfulness through sitting or walking meditation so that it can become something we are in touch with all the time, in all situations and circumstances.

And when we live our lives with mindfulness, we can't help but be loving, compassionate, and peaceful. And that DOES have a positive impact on the world. No matter what we do-- whether we are a teacher or activist-, we need the skill of mindfulness to "be alert and ready to handle ably and intelligently any situation that may arise... [A] calm heart and self-control are necessary if one is to obtain good results... If we are not in control of ourselves but instead let our impatience or anger interfere, then our work is no longer of any value" (Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness). Without mindfulness and its attendant love, compassion, and deep understanding, it is possible to obtain good results. But they would be incidental. It is much more likely that any action we undertake without real mindfulness will do more harm than good. It is only by being deeply in touch with the reality of a situation and acting out of love, compassion, and peace that we can create any positive, lasting change. And to cultivate our mindfulness, we need to practice.

As we meditate, we become aware of the constant monologue of our thoughts; an ongoing commentary on our past, present, and future. We learn to acknowledge these thoughts, identify them as what they are, and allow them to pass away without clinging.

Even more importantly, we become aware of the silence and stillness in the small spaces between thoughts. It is in these silences, these spaces, that we encounter reality, and we learn to cultivate this stillness and enter into it as a space of no fear, no desire. It's a place of just being, where we relate to the world as it really is, with no ego-centred analysis or commentary. Just equanimity and a direct experience of life; which is, I think, a direct experience of God.

In fact, it seems to me that the essence of any authentic Religious Practice is that of getting ourselves (our Selves) out of the way-- the extinction of the Self and the Ego to allow for true union or communion with the Universal, or God, or Whatever. Which only makes sense, since this is our true nature anyway.

The practice of meditation-- the learning to let go of our narrative and commentary and really dwell in the stillness and silence-- teaches us to get our Selves out of the way. Our thoughts are constantly commenting on, interpreting, and analyzing the present, and also building a past based on highly mediated, selective memories. In short, we are constantly involved in the process of constructing a Story of Me. And most of us relate to this story-- our memories, perceptions, and commentaries-- rather than to the reality of any given situation.

The more room We take up, the less room there is for God. When we can silence our commentary, stop relating to our Story, and get our Selves out of the way, we allow more space for God to work in and through us, and that, I think, can only be a good thing.

I'll try to write more in-depth and articulately on this subject in the future; but for now, I tihnk this is quite enough to swallow as an introduction.....