Getting clear on your needs & writing as a release
Clarifying what we need can help us to treat ourselves and others with greater care and attention. For me, writing is part of that process, of listening deeply. When I write, so much that comes out is garbage. And that's part of the process. A little glimmer or two of sense emerges from the sifting, by emptying out the waste matter the sense is easier to see.
Are you sure that what you're telling yourself is really true?
Whenever we get carried away with our inner monologue, whether out of dreaded or hopeful anticipation, or the constant replay of conversations or events already gone by, we can veer towards a version of reality that is more draining on our mind and nervous system than it needs to be. The late great Zen master, poet, activist and writer Thich Nhat Hanh encouraged practitioners to ask ourselves in any moment like this, "are you sure?". In other words, check, are you sure this is true, might you be minimising or maximising the story, is the storyline you're telling helpful or necessary? Might there be something else going on? What is really happening and how can you face it mindfully?
Eyes wide shut: Are we seeing things clearly, or shutting ourselves off from reality?
Way back when I first started meditating when I was 17, it was candle gazing (trataka) that I was drawn to. For a long time, that was how I practiced, eyes wide open, focusing on the flickering flame, bringing deliberate attention back to what was in front of me whenever thoughts or distractions drew me away. At some point, I learned to meditate with eyes closed. Whichever way we choose to go about things, it is always wise to exercise some practical discernment and ask ourselves, why, what's the intention of my practice, how will it serve the way in which I engage with the world?
Shut up and sit down: The simple practice of meditation
Meditation is such a simple practice - in purpose, theory and principle, if not as a felt experience of our mental landscape - that I sometimes wonder, when I come to sit down or lead a class, about why we get so hung up about it. I say we, I mean me, in terms of wondering whether I'm aiding the drift towards peace as opposed to the slipside towards more inner noise.
How to cultivate and nurture the practice of patience
Patience can be a trickster of a thing. We call it a lofty virtue as though it's something we can only ever aspire to. We know that it's something worth cultivating and yet we give it less attention or time than the things we and society convinces us we have to be doing all the time.
Conditioned as most of are to think our worth lies in all that we do, measuring that worth in the context of capitalism, ableism and consumerism, we put patience and pausing on the back-burner, telling ourselves we'll stop and give ourselves a break when things slow down.
The enriching nature of mind weeds
Meditation is tough. Sitting patiently with our selves, with our messy minds, is not an easy task. That's why we do it. Not for self-flagellation or ego-pumping determination. But to cultivate acceptance, discipline and calm.
The discomfort, the mess, the challenge, is part of the process. Intellectually that makes sense. Feeling it though, when you're sat there doing battle with your internal narrator (i.e. your little, vulnerable, weak and shouty self), it's enough to make you give up. Don't. Persist. This is where the lessons lie.
Put your mind in the muscle: A call to attention
There’s a phrase that’s used in the fitness world that’s meant to help you focus: “put your mind in the muscle”. The theory is that by channelling your mental energy as well as your physical grunt, your efforts become more concerted, and you get results.
It’s a principle and a practice that I find makes the strain both worthwhile and satisfying. Not only does it keep my mind “in the game”, it helps me tune out all of the peripheral noise that would otherwise be a distracting hindrance to the reason I am in the gym in the first place – which is to develop strength, stability, balance and stamina.