"Meditation" by premasgar, via flickr (photo links to artist's page)
As I said in my last post, I visited a Zen monastery for several weekends in my 30′s.
I started going as my (first) marriage was in process of being ended. I was crazy-stressed out. I felt like a total failure. It was the worst thing that I had to face, with the exception of when people I loved had died.
I went to see a therapist because things were bad enough that I had all of the severe symptoms of chronic stress: stomach pains, sleeping problems, inability to focus, frequent illness, and more.
The therapist suggested a number of things — cut the caffeine, eat less fatty and/or greasy food, try to exercise more…and learn how to meditate.
So…long story short, I went to a Zen monastery to learn how to meditate.
The body leads the mind
On my first visit, it was instantly clear that the monastery wasn’t some trendy, faddish spiritual center. It was a real, serious monastery with several monks in-residence. There were simple rules that had to be followed and time in the zendo (the meditation hall) was serious. No talking, no movement. Just sitting.
Now, Zen meditation (zazen) is very strict compared to other types. In zazen, you just sit. You don’t move, you don’t make noise. Your goal is to be still, to allow the body and mind to settle and be open.
In that first weekend, I learned how to meditate and how difficult it is to be still. On the last morning, as I sat looking at the wood-paneled wall that was in front of me, I started to see some crazy images in the wood grain. The images were unhappy, even violent. (Imagine looking at clouds and seeing things in the fluffy shapes…except all of the things were really upsetting.)
I realized I had two choices: I could imagine these images were coming from some outside force or I could recognize these images were coming from within me. These images were my mind finally having an opportunity to be heard (by itself).
Finding the calm and strength
I continued to meditate daily for several years. The crazy images that I saw that last day during my first visit weren’t seen again. I still found unhappy emotions surfacing, but I started to understand myself, both body and mind, as I meditated…and exercised…and modified my diet…and generally became more content with my life as I practiced these coherently healthy actions.
Unsurprisingly, as I stopped meditating each day my other good habits started to deteriorate. Eventually, after about a year, I’d slipped back into all the bad habits I had before the divorce.
This is very important as I contemplate how to make a real lifestyle change. Last thing I want is to follow some temporary diet, only to be unhappy while on the diet and also unhappy afterward when I gain the weight back. This time, I’m aiming for the long-term. I’m aiming for the closest thing to “permanence” as you can find in an impermanent world.
So the two lessons I’m using as a basis for my attempt to change my life are these:
- When I took steps that helped me be mindful of my entire body, I was most successful at living a life that was healthy in a complete and integral manner.
- When I went on vacation in New York, the combination of exercise, diet and support provided me with a real and noticeable boost to my emotional health (along with a corresponding physical boost).
I have the right intention, I think. The challenge is to find the right action that supports sustainable, life-long change that makes my life happier and healthier.
