I was introduced to formal meditation in rehab way back in 1989 and took to it like a duck takes to water. For the last years of my drinking, I had no longer been able to drown the constant, bitter chatter in my head – in fact, my alcoholic bottom was not the events that happened, but rather the complete failure of booze to quiet my mind.
When the counselor instructed all of us to lay down on the floor, I was instantly suspect. He hit the button on the cassette player and we were told to shut our eyes and inhale deeply. The woman’s soothing voice helped calm me a bit, and while I didn’t shut my eyes I did breathe as she suggested – slowly, in through my nose, and out through my mouth. She led us through a guided visualization, and I was able to imagine myself in the forest, surrounded by trees, and walking along a brook.
This was not my first time with mindfulness, although earlier experiences were not called such. I had learned to shoot a gun when I was just six years old, and shooting had been a favorite activity as a kid. First I learned about gun safety, but then I learned about calming my breath and heart in order to steady my aim. Deep breath in, full exhale – then take my shot in the quiet little moment before I need another breath. Target shooting was my first meditation experience. But given the nature of my substance use, it likely a good thing that I had stopped playing with guns.
As I lay on the rehab floor, giving in to the voice that guided us, I discovered the same kind of quiet I had known years before. The chatter in my mind slowed. A calmness settled into my soul. It was magic.
After rehab, I explored other mindfulness practices. I tried yoga. I bought meditation tapes. I learned prayers from different beliefs. I found myself chanting – even writing my own chants set to music. I was not rocketed to the fourth dimension, but it was still a useful tool to quiet my mind. It became part of my daily routine.
And so it was, in one form or another for about three decades. But a few years ago my practice began to slip. I still believed in the power, but something new started to happen – those emotions I’d tucked away would bubble up as I sat quietly, and the sadness in particular felt overwhelming. I didn’t want to feel these things, so I slowly gave up meditation.
I don’t do New Year’s resolutions – I’ve always thought January 1st was just another day, and that it takes more integrity to make changes as we realize we need them, rather than saving them for a perfect day. In early December I realized it was time to start meditating again, so I committed to doing so. Then I did nothing to move toward my goal.
Last week my therapist – not knowing of my decision – challenged me to bring a guided meditation with me to our next appointment. I spent New Year’s Day sitting through different meditations on YouTube, before settling on the “right” one, which I brought to our session today. She just challenged me to find another for next week.
I think I may have been tricked into a New Year’s resolution after all.
I have an inner defiance. There is no rhyme or reason to it, I mostly do what I’m told and try to follow some structure in my days. But I know that the defiance often rears its head when I’m called to do something that’s beneficial to me. It can be mundane, like eat healthy and get enough sleep, or profound, like spending time in meditation and prayer. I know I’m “off” when I suddenly don’t want to be mindful in my day. And the more I tell myself I *should* practice mindfulness, the more the defiance digs in. The way to snap out of the inner turmoil is for someone like my counselor to insert something unexpected into the conversation. It breaks the barriers and sparks motivation. Thanks for the spark!
Bingo! I know that defiance. I also am grateful my therapist gave me the nudge!
Meditation and weapons, yay I get that. I practiced archery, get in tune with my breath, slow my heart become one with everything then as the animal passed in front of me I said a prayer for it’s sacrifice for food for family and then poor thing was on our plates. I took up guns for a little while and decided it was a bad idea because when I was full of rage I thought of grabbing the gun.
Much later I was paid by a man who posted help wanted. He was working on doctorate degree in psychology and was collecting scientific data on meditation. He sent me a click counter to hold in my hand and a timer to set of the table. It is where my counting started. Some people say count to 10 when you are angry, but in this case he said start at 1000 and count backwards, every time in intrusive thought floats in hit the counter. So I did that.
The longer I practiced counting backwards the less intrusive thoughts I had and the less time it took me to get into Zen mode.
Today my daughters say, how can you fall asleep so fast. I say well I start at 50 and count backwards and by 30 I am asleep. Don’t know that sleep equates to meditation anymore but it sure quiets the mind. My brain cant seem to concentrate on anything else when it is working on numbers. works every time. and I earned $500 to learn it.
Thank you for your thoughts my friend! I count to calm myself And a wise woman told me that sleep is just snoring meditation.