just enough light

This is the fifth in a series.

Stillness is difficult. I want to sit still and do it “right.” When that doesn’t work after about 30 seconds, I want to get up and do something else. Then I decide to give it a few more minutes. When I realize my mind is still jumping around, I want to stop thinking and focus, but of course those are all thoughts about not thinking. What am I supposed to be “doing” by being still? Therein lies the contradiction.

I remember seeing a cartoon of a guru and his student in a meditative pose. The guru says, “What do you mean what’s next? This is it.”

Here is what I THINK is happening in my quiet times, and here is why it’s happening. The mind is in perpetual talking/thinking mode because the narration allows me to feel more comfortable with the world around me. With the narration, I can maintain some illusion of control.

Recognizing this, I think, this is a big step in learning to do something different with the chatter.

So as long as my mind is in constant chatter, maintaining a perpetual commentary of what’s going on around me and inside me, I can maintain the feeling that I am managing those things I am talking about. I imagine some control. Or perhaps more accurately, I can avoid the realization that I have no control over all those things I am chattering about.

That realization would leave me feeling vulnerable, because I am not accustomed to that.

Sidetrack: Having language gives us power. When I led a grief group at the university, I found that students were greatly empowered when we were able to put words to their experience. For example, when they were terrified at the thought of living the rest of their lives without their parent, it helped to have someone in the group put the word “terrified” to their experience. Once the word was there, other words could be added that anchored their experience into something they could begin to understand. “Oh, that’s what this is. Of course I am terrified. I know what being terrified is, but I’ve never felt it this intensely before.” Having words did not make the terror go away, but having the words made the experience more workable.

That’s a useful example of words. What happens in our heads constantly, though, is not particularly useful. It is a running commentary that allows us the illusion of comfort or control. In fact, the commentary inhibits us from truly paying attention to our experience.

I will continue to be still. And see what comes.