Monday, January 25, 2016
10 Minute Sitting Meditation
I meditated for the first time today since, oh, about spring of 2008. I had been involved in a study about meditation and depression at a university. You know those movies where the government gathers up a special task force of misfits, but especially talented misfits, each having a specialty? The sharpshooter, the computer expert, the taciturn leader, all eccentric and elite. I'm thinking about Armageddon, Ocean's 11, the upcoming Suicide Squad. That what this study group felt like, except the antithesis. Only the saddest were chosen, those with indelible sorrow, recurrences, residents and not visitors. A stay at home mom (loud, firery), a very reserved young woman recently married, a prostitute close to my age, a middle age man with the saddest way of sitting cross-legged (he was the only one I felt was the same as me). A myriad of mired souls. About half were bipolar. Young adult to middle age. I might have been one of the youngest at 23. We meditated for six weeks everyday and met once a week to talk about it. They wanted us to continue to meditate, and follow up with us a year later. I didn't continue the practice, and I never returned the follow up call when it came. I think because I wasn't quite as sad, distracted by something and its funny I can't remember exactly what. I think I still felt like a kid that didn't do her homework. I still felt like a kid, so very defensive, pretending like I let cynicism through the gates a bit before I actually had. Anyway, I meditated and I was anxious. My heart raced the whole 10 minutes (I'm starting modest). I wonder how that is, fear, obviously, of what? Of healing or of failing? And I had nostalgia for how I felt almost ten years ago, weary, fucking beat up, and fighting like hell for myself. Hopefully I still got it in me. That's there's a mind under this swirling muck. That I might one day soon cast my thoughts out instead of in.