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The Taskmaster Meditates (Woe To You, Part II)
By gartenfische | July 25, 2007
The “unloading of the unconscious.” Sounds innocuous enough. Well it isn’t. It Damn Well Is Not. Thomas Keating uses this term to describe a healing process wherein, as a result of consistent meditation practice, all your carefully concealed garbage presents itself for the world to see. It’s like a coming-out party for the two-headed step children and the neighbors get to come gloat. Ooooh, not her, don’t invite her. Oh yes, she’s invited. Not only is she invited, but she gets to sit her pathetic butt on the seat of honor.
A couple of years ago, I went through an anger phase for a few weeks. I’d be innocently going through my day when boom!– there it was, unrelated to anything that was going on. Once, while stopped at a traffic light, I was suddenly sideswiped by sheer, red, ugly anger. Monster anger, breathing fire and roaring violently. It subsided and I drove on. This experience made me into even more of a gun control freak, as you might imagine: Since people can, and do, experience wild irrational anger, why allow them the means to quickly and efficiently eliminate annoyances like the old man who cuts them off in traffic, or the girlfriend who wants to break up? Notwithstanding NRA platitudes, guns do kill people; yes, they do–about a thousand people, every single day. [Okay, climbing down off the soapbox now. . . .]
It’s disconcerting when strong emotions bubble up without announcing themselves first (Knock, knock; Who’s there?; It’s me, anger; Well, okay, hold on just a sec while I close the windows). If I hadn’t been prepared for the fallout through my meditation classes at Contemplative Outreach, I would’ve been very worried sitting in my car that day: Am I turning into Ms. Hyde? Joan Crawford? Instead, I rode it out. I’m afraid, though, that my neighbors, who had recently moved in, overheard Ms. Crawford spewing no-longer suppressed fury at J., her beloved teenage daughter. Why else does C. sometimes refer to me as “the taskmaster”? Get the f—in’ dishes washed RIGHT THIS MINUTE damn it! Thank God it didn’t last too long, but the timing could’ve been better–aside from the matter of the neighbors, parents of teenagers need all the patience they can muster. Honey, will you please wash the dishes? This is only the fifty-third time I’ve asked you, but really, I’m not counting and I can wait for the next twenty-six years while you finish painting your nails. And this is the problem with a process like this, neighbors don’t know it’s not the real you, that it’s only Ms. Crawford taking you over for a few minutes. So, unfairly, I think, I now have the reputation of a taskmaster. Thankfully, my family knew me better than that and we weathered those days just fine.
A while later, the self-repugnance stage started. I hadn’t realized I was filled with so much self-dislike (that’s the polite way of putting it). Thankfully, this is not an emotion the neighbors experienced (unless they were hiding in the closet while I was letting myself know exactly what I thought of myself). Whew, it was ugly there for a while. But I am being freed of the weight of these energies I’ve held inside for so long, which leaves more room for healthy energies, like love and compassion, to grow.
I belonged to a meditation group a couple of years ago. One of the women said her husband wouldn’t practice meditation because it’s selfish to devote time to something that only benefits yourself. But that’s just it—it’s not selfish! I am a much kinder person than I was before I committed to a regular meditation practice. I do not do this just for myself. I don’t not do it for myself, but I hope that I am gracing the world with a teensy bit more peace through my daily practice. Thomas Keating says that when we practice meditation, we benefit the world. Thich Nhat Hanh wrote: “One person sitting, walking, eating, and breathing as a free person can make an impact on the whole environment around him.” What makes me a free person? Practices like meditation, mindfulness, yoga, prayer: practices that free me from my hidden wounds and my reactive mind.
Ashtanga yoga is a consistent contemplative practice if focus is maintained to the best of our ability. I used the qualifier “the best of our ability” because I know it will be many years before I, for one, will be able to maintain focus through an entire practice—but that’s not the point, the point is trying (but not trying too hard!)—that’s why it’s called “practice.” If I let go of thoughts and allow my mind to become steady and still, then the practice becomes, in actuality, a meditation. It’s okay if the mind wanders if I gently bring it back. The point is not to be perfect at it, just to do it. It’s not easy, but in my experience, it’s worth the effort.
So maybe that’s why I’ve noticed so much change and healing going on lately, I’m getting a double whammy by practicing both sitting meditation and yoga.
Topics: God, Ashtanga, yoga, meditation, Christianity, life |
July 27th, 2007 at 7:48 am
[…] Wise and humbling, but also ultimately amusing words by Gartenfische. […]
July 27th, 2007 at 10:55 am
OMG am I going to need MORE patience as my kids hit adolescence? I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’ll be channeling Ms. Crawford for sure.
Guruji says that the effects of an ashtanga practice reach backwards and forwards seven generations. That seems like a lot..but I have no doubt that there are far-reaching effects beyond the individual.
July 27th, 2007 at 11:20 am
Well, I suppose your patience just has to shift a little; parenting is definitely an exercise in patience from start to . . . well, I was going to write finish, but there is no finish!
Wow, I like the seven generations thing. That’s awesome. And since time may not be real (according to some scientists), maybe it actually makes sense that the effect would go backward and foreward (because there really is no backward or foreward–oooh, this is too weird).
July 27th, 2007 at 10:06 pm
Anything that helps you to be a better yourself cannot be selfish..