Chapter 6: Lesson 3 – How To Sit

The next instalment in my meditation memoir, focused on how meditation can assist with depression. A basic lesson in how to sit.

Transcript

Chapter 6, Lesson 3, How to Sit. When I was little, I very often sat on the floor in a manner which, Merely to recall, Is painful. If you do yoga, Think of frog pose. It was like that, Only more intense. Me, Butt on the floor, Knees bent so that my calves folded back against my thighs, And my heels nearly touched my butt. Even though I can't sit that way anymore, I can sit cross-legged in what meditators refer to as half lotus position for hours at a time. That is, I could sit half lotus for hours at a time, But the only time I ever did so was during meditation camp. My friend Michael, Who had attended the retreat before me and who suggested I try it to alleviate my PTSD symptoms, Warned me of the extreme discomfort which invariably accompanies long sits. He assured me it wouldn't take long on my adventure for me to really believe that my legs were literally going to fall off. And he insisted that as I entered the meditation hall, I must stop in the anteroom full of cushions and pillows and blankets, And take a mountain of these fluffy and fuzzy accessories to my little meditation spot, Which was marked with a zafu, A small round butt cushion, Set atop a zabutan, A rectangular cushion that provides padding for your knees. I took his advice, Each day adding to my pile, Beanbag supports under thighs, Blankets wrapped around me, My own little fortress of warmth and softness. So bundled was I that I'm sure my silhouette in that darkened room made me look like Jabba the Hutt. Despite these precautions, Pain shot up and down my legs, Followed by numbness, Sometimes one leg, Sometimes both. To my relief, The first day we were told that while it was preferred we sit very still, Eyes closed, For each entire session, That if moving a bit became necessary, So be it. In the weeks prior to my session, My ever anticipatory mind had envisioned a stern teacher walking around the room with a stick, Ready to crack back into line anyone who so much as twitched. This notion, Conjured only in my own noggin, Not based on anything I'd actually seen or heard about the retreat, Was a great example of just how much our minds are forever creating imaginative and ultimately false narratives. So it came to pass that I did move a little now and then, Sometimes more than a little. While we did meditate for up to ten and a half hours each day, We never did more than a couple of hours at a time, Before breaking for a meal or a rest back in our tiny cell-like rooms. Considering my daily practice at home rarely ran more than twenty-one minutes at a pop though, And that I'd only done a week of training before arriving, Sitting for an hour at a time, I did amazingly well, At least outwardly. Inside though, In addition to the screaming mental demons I had to contend with, The physical agony, And it was agony, Was astonishing. Until, As had been promised and predicted by those who'd gone before me, Day four arrived. I'm not saying that I hopped up off my tiny bed at four a. M. That day, Eager at the sound of the wake-up gong to go in and bend my newly limber legs into a flesh pretzel. I still hurt, A lot, But I build up my tolerance for long sitting very quickly. I look back and I cannot believe I ever sat like that for more than thirty minutes at a time. The memory seemed as vague and unbelievable as the modified frog pose of my youth. How the hell did I ever manage it? Which is a variation of a question I get fairly often from people who ask me how to sit, Or tell me they just cannot sit, Period. It is too impossible. I totally understand that feeling. So I tell the inquisitive the following, Beginning with the most important point of all when they ask me how, Literally, To sit. No matter what, You are not doing it wrong. If you are sitting, Even if you can't bend your legs at all, You are still sitting. You will not go to some hell if you cannot now or ever sit in full lotus or half lotus. Hint, There is no hell outside of your own suffering mind. And meditation alleviates suffering, So there is no hell. If you are sitting in a chair because a meditation cushion is not going to be part of your world ever, That is okay. If you need to lie down on a yoga mat or a bearskin rug or a radial beach towel or whatever, Then lie down and just call it sitting. If you want to think of those moments when you wake up in the morning, But aren't yet up out of bed as a sort of meditation with training wheels, Then great, Do that. If you are hoping to use not being able to sit as just another opportunity to beat the crap out of yourself, I am going to pleasantly deny you that opportunity and point you back to the top of this list and remind you that as long as you are trying, You are not doing it wrong. As an avid knitter, I have taught countless others to knit. I tell everyone the same thing during lesson one. No matter how much you think you are screwing up, Power through. Get the muscle memory down. You will likely have gaping holes, Also known as curious and unintended elements of design, And moments when you absolutely cannot remember how to wrap the yarn around the needle. I say don't worry, Keep going. Just get the idea of it in your head and hands. So it is with sitting. It is perfectly fine if you only sit for a minute. It is okay if you twitch. If you have OCD shit going on like I do and need to look at your clock every minute to make sure that only a minute has passed, Even though it feels like an hour, That is okay. I once met a woman who told me, Back when I was just doing five minutes each day and she was doing twenty, Which seemed unimaginably long, That day she couldn't sit still totally, Eyes closed, For the full twenty. She would at least make herself stay in her spot for that long, Even if she'd stop meditating. Which brings me back to lesson two. Even though I just said you can count the time lying in your bed in the morning as sitting, A way better idea is to go to your spot, The one you created to remind you to heed the calling. Now, Sit down. Find a comfortable position, Or at least a position that is not horrifically uncomfortable. If that means legs out in front of you, So be it. If you want to use a mountain of pillows, Use a mountain of pillows. You can rest your hands palm down on your knees, Or make palms up okay signs with your fingers, Or stack your hands like I do, Making a kind of a circle with palm cupping palm, Thumbs touching in the center of your lap. Most important, Your ass is on cushion or chair or floor or bed. Your lungs are acknowledged, Your breathing is noted. One minute, Or even just one breath in and one breath out. Just be as still as you can be and breathe and pay attention to your breathing. Thich Nhat Hanh is a rock star in the world of Zen Buddhism. He is a super awesome dude. I have been on retreat with him and have felt the energy shift when he walks into the room. Thich, As he is known, Loves to teach everyone to meditate, Regardless of religious affiliation or non-affiliation. He has a great technique, Which is incredibly simple and works amazingly well. He says that while you're sitting, Just think to yourself, Breathing in, I know I am breathing in. Breathing out, I know I am breathing out. Over and over and over. That is meditation. You are not doing it wrong. You are doing it right.

Reviews

Absolutely wonderful. And I love the straight forward delivery. Thank you for reinforcing so many things I have heard.

Excellent, but FYI it's more of a talk than a meditation.

Thanks for the instructions..there is never a wrong way... just good intentions.

So much of this I needed to hear.

Great advice. Thank you! 🌺🙏🌺