Sitting still
Nov. 27th, 2017 22:11![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillI think that sitting still is the hardest skill I have ever tried to cultivate.
Wondering why I would say that? Try it. Sit, as comfortably as you can, and focus on just being present. Be aware of the here and now. Continue until you are able to just sit in the present without thinking of anything except what is around you, right now.
Your mind will slip sideways, constantly. It wants to think about past events, and what else you're going to do today, and the stuff you need to get done and how you really shouldn't spend too much time sitting here, because there's somewhere you have to be. It'll bring up that thing the woman in the store said to you yesterday, and that reminds you that you're almost out of milk, and maybe you should pick up something for dinner tomorrow.
And then you'll realize that you've been sitting on that bench, or that tree stump, or that chair, for a full minute and a half and you haven't been present for any of it.
Here. Now. I keep corralling my thoughts and pointing them to those two words. I look around, absorbing where I am, really looking at it instead of taking shorthand notes. I can feel tension in my shoulders, and I consciously relax it. Two minutes later, I can feel a deeper tightness is still there, so I relax that. Lather, rinse, repeat. With every cycle my thoughts get less frayed and erratic, and I get more conscious of my environment. I hadn't even noticed that tree before. Look at how the sunlight falls across that fence. There's a slight breeze.
Some people start the process by focusing on their breathing, but I find I have to start by focusing on how I sit, and relaxing the tension in my shoulders and belly. If I do that, I sink down until I can see the right state of mind, like sunlight through trees. As soon as that happens, I automatically start breathing deeply from my belly, in exactly the way one is supposed to. It feels natural, and I do it without thinking -- which is the point. My posture doesn't matter, so long as I'm able to take a deep breath, and I am comfortable.
There's no way to force it, no way to keep it to a schedule. Pursuing this state of mind like a dog after a rabbit only maintains the tension, thoughts skittering across the surface. Thinking about the clock drags you out of the now and into where you are going to be later. You have to put aside enough time that you can sit until you are done.
It's draining, too. I keep thinking that sitting down is rest, but this kind of sitting is work -- not physical work (I don't do zazen) but mental work. I relax, and become present, and often I become aware that I'm tired or hungry, even though I didn't feel it before. I become more attuned to my body's needs, and sometimes I've been neglecting them because I've been so busy. Sometimes that means I have to give up on going any further, because I'm too tired to concentrate, or the need for food is too hard to ignore. And that's okay, my body's important too.
Even when I have to stop because I'm fighting to stay awake, or I'm suddenly starving, when I get up and walk back to where I need to be, my mind is much quieter. It's the peace of being in tune and content, a lack of anxiety I didn't know I had. Even a partial journey is practice, and every time I do it it gets very slightly easier. Meanwhile, I'm more relaxed and focused, able to enjoy my environment more than when I was stuck in my own head.
Some days I can't set aside the time at all, or I'm too tired to try. That's fine. No one is keeping score. I'll do it again when I can. If it's been a while, it takes a bit more time and work, but I can still get there again. This is a task for a lifetime, there is no deadline.
And it's the simplest thing in the world: just sit still.
Wondering why I would say that? Try it. Sit, as comfortably as you can, and focus on just being present. Be aware of the here and now. Continue until you are able to just sit in the present without thinking of anything except what is around you, right now.
Your mind will slip sideways, constantly. It wants to think about past events, and what else you're going to do today, and the stuff you need to get done and how you really shouldn't spend too much time sitting here, because there's somewhere you have to be. It'll bring up that thing the woman in the store said to you yesterday, and that reminds you that you're almost out of milk, and maybe you should pick up something for dinner tomorrow.
And then you'll realize that you've been sitting on that bench, or that tree stump, or that chair, for a full minute and a half and you haven't been present for any of it.
Here. Now. I keep corralling my thoughts and pointing them to those two words. I look around, absorbing where I am, really looking at it instead of taking shorthand notes. I can feel tension in my shoulders, and I consciously relax it. Two minutes later, I can feel a deeper tightness is still there, so I relax that. Lather, rinse, repeat. With every cycle my thoughts get less frayed and erratic, and I get more conscious of my environment. I hadn't even noticed that tree before. Look at how the sunlight falls across that fence. There's a slight breeze.
Some people start the process by focusing on their breathing, but I find I have to start by focusing on how I sit, and relaxing the tension in my shoulders and belly. If I do that, I sink down until I can see the right state of mind, like sunlight through trees. As soon as that happens, I automatically start breathing deeply from my belly, in exactly the way one is supposed to. It feels natural, and I do it without thinking -- which is the point. My posture doesn't matter, so long as I'm able to take a deep breath, and I am comfortable.
There's no way to force it, no way to keep it to a schedule. Pursuing this state of mind like a dog after a rabbit only maintains the tension, thoughts skittering across the surface. Thinking about the clock drags you out of the now and into where you are going to be later. You have to put aside enough time that you can sit until you are done.
It's draining, too. I keep thinking that sitting down is rest, but this kind of sitting is work -- not physical work (I don't do zazen) but mental work. I relax, and become present, and often I become aware that I'm tired or hungry, even though I didn't feel it before. I become more attuned to my body's needs, and sometimes I've been neglecting them because I've been so busy. Sometimes that means I have to give up on going any further, because I'm too tired to concentrate, or the need for food is too hard to ignore. And that's okay, my body's important too.
Even when I have to stop because I'm fighting to stay awake, or I'm suddenly starving, when I get up and walk back to where I need to be, my mind is much quieter. It's the peace of being in tune and content, a lack of anxiety I didn't know I had. Even a partial journey is practice, and every time I do it it gets very slightly easier. Meanwhile, I'm more relaxed and focused, able to enjoy my environment more than when I was stuck in my own head.
Some days I can't set aside the time at all, or I'm too tired to try. That's fine. No one is keeping score. I'll do it again when I can. If it's been a while, it takes a bit more time and work, but I can still get there again. This is a task for a lifetime, there is no deadline.
And it's the simplest thing in the world: just sit still.
