You learn to live again . . .
FOO FIGHTERS, “TIMES LIKE THESE”
7
BLOOD, BROKEN BONES, VIOLENCE, AND OTHER JOYS OF MEDITATION
We can’t all be poets like Bukowski, but there is no shortage of other routes to cultivating Everything Mind. One of the most honest, direct, rugged, and raw (like Bukowski’s style) methods is meditation. It’s no secret that the benefits of meditation are well worth overcoming any resistance we may encounter to taking up a practice. Who wouldn’t like to feel less stress, have lower blood pressure, increased calm, and greater focus in their daily lives, not to mention a more intimate connection with their Divine Self . . . and for free? Shit, you can’t go wrong.
In his book Hardcore Zen, Brad Warner writes, “Your life is yours alone, and to miss your life is the most tragic thing that could happen. So sit down, shut up, and take a look at it.”1 Besides making an important point—that to miss out on our lives is one of the most tragic things that could happen—he essentially gives us the quick-and-dirty version of how to meditate, which could alternatively be said as “Sit down, shut up, and listen.” When it comes to the practice of meditation itself, sure, there are suggestions for how to sit, place our hands, and breathe (all of which we’ll cover later), but the essence of meditation really is that simple. Just sit down, shut up, and listen.
Now, I feel it’s only fair to forewarn those new to meditation that the practice doesn’t always consist of blissed-out states of white light and heavenly choruses. No, meditation can be extremely brutal. I don’t mean brutal in the physical sense, like when our knees hurt from sitting for extended periods of time, but rather, brutal in the mental and emotional sense—that’s where things can get exceptionally difficult and dark.
I recently experienced one of these brutal meditations, one that left me asking myself, “Is this really worth it?” As I sat, I watched a flurry of various painful memories arise from the wreckage of my past, seemingly out of nowhere. I saw my parents’ faces looking in on me while I was strapped to a bed in an emergency room, out of my mind on drugs and alcohol. I saw myself chugging a pint of cheap vodka while on my way to pick up a friend to take her to get an abortion because I had woken up going through withdrawals and couldn’t do it any other way. I saw myself crying, throwing up, punching walls, and cutting various body parts just so I could feel something. What hurt most of all as I relived these experiences was how deeply I felt the pain—both mine and others’—that came along with these memories.
Of course, once the intense feelings subsided, the answer to whether meditation was worth it or not was still undeniably yes. Yet, for many of us with complicated and even sordid histories, which include things like blood, broken bones, violence, DUIs, blackouts, and suicide attempts, our experiences on the cushion may at times be unpleasant enough to make us question why we’re even practicing in the first place. Didn’t we start meditating because we heard it would bring greater peace and joy into our lives? Well, it will . . . eventually; but for some of us, it just takes a bit longer.
I lived to drink alcohol and consume whatever other drugs were available, and I used these substances to live. This cycle of insanity dictated many years of my life. Although today I’m free from that insidious lifestyle, the painful memories remain. So why do people like me meditate? Why do we stay present with these experiences in meditation when we could just as easily escape through any number of life’s limitless distractions? For me, it’s because, no matter how uncomfortable meditation may get at times, deep down I know that my only other option is to revert to my old ways of living.
It’s through learning to sit in meditation with a patient and open heart that I found the strength to face pain when it arises; to fearlessly stay with whatever life presents me in any given moment (on a good day); to walk through the difficult times rather than run away from them and numb myself with drugs, alcohol, food, sex, video games, movies, or whatever. Don’t get me wrong—the temptation to take the easy way out still arises, and since nobody is perfect, there have been, and still are, times when I succumb in one way or another. These times can be beneficial as well. If we can muster the courage to consciously look at where things started to head south—before we began acting out or shooting up or using material objects as a means of avoidance—we can learn to see the root cause of where and why things began to fall apart. As we move forward, we can be more mindful of our self-defeating behavioral patterns and do our best to avoid falling back into them.
Still, some days can suck so incredibly much that the idea of just dropping out sounds great. These are the times when looking at our lives and ourselves from a place of compassion can become wonderful reminders of just how great today actually is. Why is today great? Well, we’re alive and breathing, so there’s a start. Seriously, if we’re practicing any form of conscious living, that’s huge! That’s inspired living. As we learn to live more consciously, we learn to say yes to life, with the understanding that every single thing, both good and bad, is of equal value and importance on our path. Each encounter can be our teacher, our curriculum, or our guru when approached from a place of sincere curiosity, openness, and acceptance. This is Everything Mind.
The discomfort we feel at times in meditation isn’t fun, but in comparison to the alternative—staying locked in a cycle of pain, dis-ease, and self-medication—is there any question that meditation isn’t worth it? When we keep an open heart to the difficult times in life, we naturally cultivate an ever-growing amount of compassion for ourselves and others. Not to mention we’ll be much better equipped to face the incredibly difficult shitstorms life inevitably sends our way from time to time.
Inspired living isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always fun. In fact, I’ve found that the most inspired times I’ve experienced since setting out on the spiritual path are when I consciously honor, face, and extend love and compassion to pain when it arises. Pain that is the result of the many fucked-up things I’ve done in my past. It’s through facing and working with this pain, this wreckage of my past, that I heal and release it. With each broken piece I mend, I’m capable of sharing that much more love with all beings and myself.
Later on in the book, I’ll share a very powerful practice about how to extend love and compassion to pain when it arises, but first things first: breath awareness.