On Saturday, I went to a mindfulness meditation retreat. It was held in a rustic building near an old country house in Redmond. I've never done anything quite like that before, and honestly, I almost bailed out at the last minute.
I've tried to keep up a simple meditation practice, with varying degrees of success over the years. I go it alone, helped along by new age music on my iPod, meditation iPhone apps, and book advice from Deepak Chopra and other wise gurus.
Meditation is easy (you just sit there) but hard (you just sit there.) Like most people, I've been through many cycles of enthusiasm and apathy, at times "falling off the cushion" for months on end.
The Saturday retreat was led by Carolyn McManus, a mindfulness and pain management counselor from Swedish Hospital. I first encountered Carolyn at the Frye Art Museum, where she leads a free guided mediation on Wednesdays at noon. I found that meditation was a very difference experience in a facilitated group. No one interacts directly, but there's a certain energy when like-minded people do the same thing at the same time.
At the Saturday retreat, just imagine 15 people (13 of them women!) not speaking for 6 hours. There wasn't any awkward meet-and-greet time, no name tags, no introductions, no forced confessions of "what I hope to get out of this." Even for someone like me, who enjoys chattering on about banalities, it was a surprising relief. The only talking out loud in the room (other than Carolyn, of course) was at the very end of the day, when everyone said a few words about the experience. Then we went home.
Freedom from the obligation to speak was like a restful break. Now I see why the monks do it in monasteries! We even ate our sack lunches in silence, looking out the window or just chewing and staring at the floor. I gave my full attention to slowly eating a corned beef sandwich, and never enjoyed one more.
As the hours progressed (more difficult sitting meditations, walking meditations, easy yoga stretches, a real nap time) the busy mind and body has no choice but to slow down. Time drags and time flies.
My favorite new experience was walking meditation. During half hour sessions we were free to wander round the property. Basically, walking with no place to go and no desire to get there. This is harder than it sounds. In everyday life, we're always going someplace with purpose and intent, judging and labeling along the way. (A robin, a daffodil, a piece of trash, etc.)
The purpose of walking meditation is to do it so slowly, as in one step for each breath, and to see, feel and hear as you go without describing. Easier said than done, but it's amazing the little things you start to notice. Moss is so soft under your feet, when you step on it in gentle slow motion.
"The quieter you become, the more you can hear."
I thought by the end of the day I'd be antsy and restless from the confinement. Instead I felt calm and relaxed. The day was like shifting a car from high gear down to second, then
first, with even some pleasant hints of neutral. Aha. That elusive state of meditation bliss?
