Quiet

Today's prompt from Rachel Cole's Savor project is:

In the quiet, I hear...

In the quiet, I hear my heart beat.

Have you ever slowed down and listened to your body so deeply that you can hear your heart beat? Not physically feel the pulse of blood somewhere in your body with your fingers, but actually hear the oh-so-soft thump, thump, thump.

It's soothing.

Give it a try.

Turn off any external noise that you can — TVs, music, phones. Find yourself a comfortable seat. In a chair, or on a couch. Or lie down on the floor on your back or your side.

Begin to notice your breath first.

Feel the inhale.

Feel the exhale.

Welcome the thoughts that arise. And let them pass on by.

Continue to notice your breath. Don't try to change or shift it in any way. Just notice.

Feel the breath in your chest, around your heart. Feel it slip over the heart on the inhale, and back past the heart on the exhale.

Then listen. The heart's beat is soft, but consistent. When you hear it, breathe with it. Try inhaling for two beats, and exhaling for two beats (or for whatever count works best for you).

Settle in and breathe with the beat of your heart for a few minutes. Relish this connection with yourself.

Then slowly let your breath come back to normal. Blink open your eyes, and continue on with your day.

It might feel just a little quieter.

Hold, please

Questions about how to quiet the mind come up a lot in my life, often during my restorative yoga classes, but also in conversation with folks who know I keep a regular meditation practice.

I wrote some about the topic here, but last week I had an insight that still makes me chuckle.

During a recent meditation, I was using one technique I've learned for acknowledging the thoughts in my mind and letting them go.

It's the "thinking" method, which simply means that when you identify that you are having thoughts, say to yourself, "thinking." Feel the quiet that emerges after you say that word. Allow for the space to expand. Breathe into it.

And when thoughts arise again, as they always do, do it again.

"Thinking." Pause. Breathe. Relish.

I'd done this a few times already during this particular practice. Then all of a sudden an image came to mind. A very distinct picture of a 1950s switchboard operator. She was heavily done-up, from make-up to hair. Pencil skirt. Crisp white blouse. Comfortably seated in an office chair, chomping on a piece of gum and filing her nails.

When the board would buzz, she'd lift the receiver, say, "Hold, please," hang it up and go right back to filing her nails and smacking her gum.

Polite, but firm.

Somehow I knew she would get back to the caller(s), but on her terms, when she was ready.

Just like I wanted to do with my flittering mind. I didn't necessarily want to push the thoughts away, or forget them even. I just wanted them to ease. Come back later, if important.

So I thought I'd channel my inner switchboard operator. Instead of telling myself, "thinking," I said, "hold, please."

And ... it worked. As well as "thinking" ever had at least. But it did quiet things — and it made me grin.

Calm and joy? That's a win-win.

On thinking and meditation

Some of my best thoughts come while meditating.

Yeah, I know. Those of you who've never meditated might say, "But I thought you're supposed to clear the mind of thoughts when meditating."

And, those of you who have meditated, whether briefly or for years, might say, "if you're thinking, and thinking your best thoughts while you're seated in meditation, you might not be able to count that as meditation."

But hang in there with me. 

A few weeks ago I participated in a webinar with MDs Lissa Rankin and one of my all-time favorite authors, Rachel Naomi Remen. (Seriously, pick up Kitchen Table Wisdom. It changed my life, and might just change yours.)

Part of the webinar focused on identifying how our soul speaks to or guides us. Some of the ways that were discussed were internal signs, like persistent thoughts, dreams, or intuition. Others were external, such as somatic symptoms (illnesses), found objects, "coincidences," and voices or visions.

As I sat through the webinar, I struggled with identifying the ways my soul speaks to me. And then after the next two mornings when I meditated, I noticed something.

And first, I should explain. To me, meditating is a process of allowing for thoughts to come to mind, acknowledging that you're having those thoughts, then letting them go on their merry way. It is not a process of intentionally forcing thoughts out of the mind, nor is it a process of indulging and getting caught up in those thoughts. It's a way to observe the thoughts you have and let them go. A way to recognize that you are not your thoughts. 

So, back to those post-webinar mornings. I noticed that my thought patterns run two ways.

First are the thoughts I'll label the laundry list.

Gotta do the dishes today.

To do the dishes, I need to buy dishwashing detergent.  

Why's the dog whining?

Is that meeting at 11 or noon?

Geez, my knee hurts.

These are the thoughts that I can acknowledge, then release, and come back to a quiet state. They can be annoying, and seem never-ending, but they're harmless.

Then there are the thoughts that niggle. And return. And return. And return.

Sometimes they return in one session. Sometimes they return morning after morning after morning.

These are the thoughts I'm learning to take note of. To differentiate from the laundry list thoughts. And to acknowledge them in a different way — to sort of "mark with a star" in my mind, then let go in order to come back to quiet. (I am still meditating after all — a process that's becoming more fruitful than I ever anticipated.)

How does your soul speak to you?