Friday, September 01, 2006

Meditation



First let me state that I do not meditate, at least in the conventional sense. I am not a cynic; just have too much nervous energy to sit. This has not prevented me from trying though. In high school and college I dabbled with meditation to no avail.

One night, determined to reach nirvana, I settled on my bed in the lotus position. Donning my headphones, I concentrated all my psychic energy (what there was of it) on the tip of my nose. I had read about this technique in one of the many pop-psychology books that were so prevalent in the 70’s. After what seemed like an eternity, I emerged from my self-induced stupor, promised to redouble my efforts the next day and fell fitfully to sleep.

Awakening early the next morning I felt good about my accomplishment. My mind was clear and any doubts of my purpose were set aside. Funny thing though, I could not shake the tingling sensation centered on my nose.

Rising from bed, I headed for the nearest mirror and was horrified to see a large red proboscis starring back at me. My efforts of the night before had left me with a grape-size carbuncle on the tip of my nose. The scarlet protuberance, unsettling as it was, convinced me of the power of meditation.

I thought it wise to stop focusing on body parts and instead began to practice meditation in motion: building boats, suturing complex hand wounds, welding steel into sculpture, sailing off the coast of Chicago and practicing Chanoyu, the Tea Ceremony.

All have been attempts at meditation, though I realize not in the formal sense. I think of my pursuits as adaptations to life in America and a busy career.

The more involved I get with various projects, the more amazed I am at the preparation that goes into right practice. For most professionals, be it medicine, law, science, religion or art, study goes back to childhood. We see only the tip of the iceberg.

How does this expertise come to pass? Book learning only provides the basics. A common complaint of students−that school does not teach anything practical−is completely understandable. Life, it turns out, is more of an apprenticeship and though facts play a large role, education is about problem solving and not purely memorization.

In high school and college we are afforded ample opportunity to practice. Schedules, financial aid, libraries, professors and even roommates provide case studies for the problems we will encounter as adults.

But what does this have to do with meditation. Meditation is the process by which facts, and the thoughts they engender, are organized. It relieves the brain from goal seeking, allowing it to choose its own path of inter-connectivity. It is the creative side of consciousness. It is intuition.

It took me years to understand that the mind is constructed organically, not machine like. Similar to the branching of trees or the spread of roots, to the flow of rivers and not canals, thus linear thought seldom reveals truth.

We say, "think out of the box", but the box represents our formal training, and as much as we may have suffered through academic training, familiarity leads to comfort and comfort to complacency. Meditation throws a wrench into the system. Even as practitioner’s sit and look peaceful to the out side world, inside they are pitted against Mt. Everest without oxygen to assist in their march to the summit.

Chanoyu presents this challenge. At first glance it is a beautiful pastime easily mastered, but with increasing mastery comes increasing complexity. Of course there are no guarantees, but if you persist with the meditative practice that is Chanoyu one day while seated before precisely placed utensils with fire drawing air through embers, tea is whisked, offered to your guest and tranquility envelops you.