For me, "traditional" Zen meditation is very uncomfortable. Because of that I don't do it. As much as I could benefit, I'm sure, from "traditional" meditation, I can never get beyond the physical and mental discomfort to get to the "meditation." Or if the physical and mental discomfort is the "meditation", then I'm willing to do without it.
That said, I meditate quite often. I am reading a book called, Meditation, Now or Never by Steve Hagen., which is a how-to book on "traditional" meditation. I benefit from reading about it; I'm just not willing to do it. So how is it that I meditate often?
When Hagen says "now or never" it's not in a threatening sense; it's in a very real and supporting sense. As I understand it, He is saying that meditation can only happen "now" or it will "never" happen. And of course "now" is a perpetually moving target. So for me I can meditate anytime, anywhere and any way I choose to meditate. This realization isn't totally mine. When I read Dan Harris "10% Happier", he gave me permission to accept my method to be as valid as any method.
I meditate when I'm eating, when I'm sleeping, when I'm on my way to work, when I'm at work, when I'm listening to music, when I'm writing (and often listening to music), when I'm hiking in the woods or just walking in the mall, when I'm in a boring meeting, anytime, anywhere and any way I choose.
Although I meditate on the go, I do incorporate something that approximates "traditional" meditation. I have a "place" in my home. It's my happy place. My spot. My space. It's where I'm sitting now. It's where I read, where I write, where I listen to music, where I email my friends, where I manage Facebook and where I meditate. "Traditional" meditation involves sitting on a cushion with my spine straight looking at a blank wall. Or I can use a kneeling bench if I prefer. My meditation involves sitting in a comfortable office chair, slightly slouched with my feet propped up on the arm of the sofa beside me. I'm looking through the plate glass door at trees, shrubs, grass, the bright sunshine, squirrels and birds. And I'm either listening to beautiful music or to my wind chimes.The benefit for me of this method is that I really don't want it to be over as opposed to I can't wait for this to be over. So is it better to have a rather short, uncomfortable "traditional" meditation or an indefinitely long "nontraditional" meditation.
It's very possible that one of my dearest friends, the person who gave me Meditation: Now or Never, is reading this. I have all the respect in the world for you and what I'm writing certainly means no disrespect to you or Zen meditation.. For that matter your book is helping me to become even more comfortable with my style and to validate my methods to remain at least 10% Happier. Something else about this friend. He gave me a string of prayer beads a Rosary of sorts, that I use quite often as I pray. Each ball on the bracelet belongs to someone I love. Those people get prayed for quite often. One of those balls belongs to this friend. He gets prayed for at least once every day. I have a bead for "everyone else" so for what it's worth, you, my reader, get prayed for as well.
No matter how one meditates, all of the instruction I have ever heard or read says that it begins with the breath. And continues with the breath. I am to focus on my breathing throughout the process. And to breath normally. Funny thing about. For me, which one do you want me to do? I can either breath normally or I can focus on my breath. I can't do both. When I focus on my breath it is always somewhat more labored than when I'm not. Breathing is the most unconscious and life-sustaining thing we do all day and night. If we stop breathing for five or six minutes we're dead. Or brain dead. I have no trouble breathing normally. I've been doing that many times for a very long time. It is estimated that we inhale and exhale about 700 million times in our lifetimes. That's a lot of breathing. But ask me to focus on it and it's not natural. If I meditate when and where and how I meditate, I'm just breathing. Isn't that the point?
I have six batteries that are very important to me. Four of them are rechargeable. Two are not. I can recharge the battery in my Bose noise-cancelling headphones (two of them). While I'm using one, I'm recharging the other, I can recharge my cellphone and my camera batteries. I have to replace the batteries in my mouse and my smoke detector. As for my rechargeable batteries, I keep them charged all the time. As for the other two, I have a basket full of AA batteries. My most important rechargeable battery is my brain. My brain is very needy, very hungry, constantly starving to be fed. Insatiable, actually. It is perpetually being discharged. Its most coveted forms of nourishment are human love and affection, reading, writing, listening to music and constant meditation. Oh, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. If I don't recharge this battery on a regular basis, I get strung out and extremely annoyed and annoying. None of this is optional for me if I want to be a healthy and happy human being. Just ask my wife and those who know me best. "Go relax. It's better that way for all of us."
Another funny thing. I walked up to the kitchen just now to get another cup of coffee. When I came back to my sacred desk, the battery on my headphones was dead. Its the listening part of the device that needs the battery and not the hearing. But neither part works without the battery. The fully charged battery was sitting on the desk beside me. It takes me about thirty seconds to replace it. There was no break in my music. And isn't that what we all need? Not necessarily the need to recharge but to never be discharged. That is not easy, but it's possible. My music and writing are my recharge. My meditation is my stay charged; it provides constant mental nourishment.
I'm listening to the music of Ola Gjeilo. YouTube introduced him to me about four months ago. I let the video I was listening to bleed into the next and there he was. He is a Norwegian musician trained at Julliard. The music I'm listening to now is some of his piano improvisations. It's hard for me to believe that music this complex and beautiful was recorded as he improvised. But that's what he says he did. If you know music, what I'm hearing now are triples in the right hand and duples in the left. No easy feat even when rehearsed. Almost impossible when improvised.
No matter how educated and experienced we are, when we wake up each day we improvise; we do the best we can do. And how much better that best is when we're rested and alert. When we're recharged and recharging. It's our one and only day. Our one and only life. We can live it now or never.
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