When people ask what benefits I derive from my meditation practice, I find myself at a loss for words. Imagine that, me of all people not able to provide a sufficient answer. I know what it feels like, I know how it feels to experience life differently. I just couldn’t find the right words. Until now.
I used to tell people it was an additional coping skill for dealing with hard times and feelings. I used to tell people that it helped remind me to breathe, to be present, to be grateful, to be grace. These are all still true. But today the words found me. I don’t think it was so much an issue of finding the words, but instead finding my way to this space of a different understanding whereupon I can draw upon these words. This truth has always been there, I just needed to be in this space to feel them.
Yes, my mindfulness meditation practice reminds me to quiet my mind. But it’s not just the quieting of the mind to ease anxieties. It doesn’t stop there. It quiets the mind so that my mind doesn’t continue to scurry about, examining every single What If….? If Only…? But Why…? My mind, my soul, now understand that the answers to those questions don’t matter. In fact, the questions themselves don’t matter. My head knew that. But it wasn’t a truth for me yet. Until now.
True acceptance of the present moment, the present circumstances as-is, requires the mind to be still. I’ve finally learned to stop the Intellectualization Train. Because there’s no destination, and the journey on that train didn’t feel good. This train doesn’t even have a cash bar.
The over-thinking ad nauseum, the quest to better understand, the examination to determine what happened, the desire for an explanation–they do nothing but create suffering, ennui, confusion. I used to want to know why. Then I wanted to show I was right, I could fix that, or you, or me. And it would all be better then. I thought if I could understand and fix it, then my suffering would end.
I understand now that it only hurts when I want that person to be someone he is not, to be someone else. It only hurts when I want the current circumstance to be something different, to be somewhere else, to live another life. The details, the back stories, the explanations, the possibilities–none of it matters. What matters is what I decide to do when presented with current circumstances, when faced with the truth of who someone is.
And it is in the quietness of this space that I can make decisions that honor me, that are kind to me, that allow me the space to draw upon past lessons to make different decisions. Or, because I’m human, make the same decisions and be fully aware I’m choosing to suffer again, one more time. For old time’s sake.
Before, quieting my mind offered moments of peace, of silence, of tranquility. It helped me insert pauses into my day. It helped me put the brakes on freaking out. It helped me stop the anxiety for a moment, until it came back. Because it always comes back. Because anxiety and sadness and confusion are always part of life.
But this new understanding provides a different quieting of the mind. This is quieting my mind from the outset, of understanding the over-intellectualizing IS the suffering The suffering is the wondering Why he did this, or Why she didn’t do that, or if Only things were different.
He did do that, she didn’t do that, and things aren’t different. That’s all there is. I am in a space in life now where that’s all I need to know to make my decisions. And there will be accompanying anger or sadness or frustration. But there isn’t the suffering. There aren’t any story lines, which are the suffering. Sadness and anger and frustration is very different without the suffering.
They don’t feel good. But they’re not overwhelming. I used to have difficulty feeling negative emotions because I experienced them so intensely, so fully. So I tried to avoid them. I felt like they would consume me, that I would drown in them. But feeling sadness as sad; feeling anger as anger, feeling frustration as frustration–these I can do.
It’s easier to acknowledge these, and sit with them, and let go. It doesn’t cut quite as deep. It doesn’t tie me to the past as much. It lets me move forward. It doesn’t keep me stuck in this quicksand that is suffering, where I feared it would consume me. This new truth allows me to invite Anxiety or Sadness into my home, because I know they’re here for just a short while before they go calling on someone else, and they mean no harm. This new truth allows me to be a good host because I know Grace and Hope will come calling again soon too.