Sitting still
Jan. 23rd, 2020 22:29![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillI sit.
I don't just mean that my butt is in a chair; I mean it like the Zen masters mean it. I sit. Not every day, sometimes not for months. But whenever a crisis passes and I'm finally able to breathe freely, one of the first things I do is to sit. I'd love to be in a situation where I have the opportunity to sit every day.
I taught myself. That means what I do is not Zen; that requires a teacher, and a lot of tradition. I'm not sure what to call what I do. It's not meditation, at least in the way that most people mean it. It does give me calm, and peace of mind, and lowers my stress level. How does it do that? I just... sit.
Anyone can do it. That doesn't mean it's easy; anyone can learn to play chess, too. But it is accessible. Even the first attempt can be beneficial, and every time you do it it gets easier, even though the first few times teach you how hard it can be to simply sit.
How do you do it?
First, find a half hour without interruption. If this seems impossible, then you're one of the people who could probably benefit the most from sitting. A half hour spent will give you an extra hour in your day. It sounds absurd, but it's true. I can never believe it either, yet every time I'm surprised.
Next, find a quiet place where you feel safe and comfortable. Physical comfort is secondary once you get the hang of it; I've managed to sit outside in 40-degree weather, and by the time I was done my hands were perfectly warm without gloves. But for the first few times, make sure you have a good seat and you are in comfortable clothes. A chair is fine, no need to sit on the floor.
Important note: The location should not be anywhere you are responsible for maintaining. I don't sit in my house or my yard. Why? Because wherever I look, there are things I should be doing, tasks which need to be dealt with. I sit in a park, or in the library, or in a coffee shop. In a pinch I sit in my car, because there are very few things there that "need to be done". Get away from the to-do list.
Finally, set an alarm (if you have limited time available) and silence your phone. Get rid of potential interruptions.
Then... sit. I like to do it outdoors, where there are nice things to look at, but it's not required. Don't try to make your mind a blank. Don't think about your breathing. What you want to do is to focus on being present -- here, now. You'll find thoughts intruding; let them pass on through, and when they finish, come back to here, now. You can think about what to have for dinner, later. You can mull over that meeting you had, later. Right now, you are here. Look at it. Hear it. Feel it.
Here. Now.
You may become aware that you're not completely comfortable. Shift your position if you need to. I often start out sitting one way, then gradually shift until I'm in my usual position, feet flat and hands resting on my thighs -- but it never feels comfortable to start there.
Try to find where you have tension. Are you sitting too straight? Are your shoulders or neck tight? Are you using your belly muscles? Relax that. It may take a few minutes, that's fine. Just be present as you work on it. You're here, now, and those muscles are easing so you have to shift your arms to a different position. Just keep sitting.
It takes me about ten minutes just to be really aware of where I am. I heard there's a psychology study to that effect; it's why I never try to do it for less than ten minutes. Thoughts come less often. I wonder whether I'm done yet. I feel like it's a waste of time. I get a little restless. But I keep sitting.
Around fifteen minutes, reactions set in. I usually get anxious. Sometimes I laugh for no reason, or my breath gets really choppy like adrenaline letdown, or I shake myself like a dog because everything feels tight. I just let it happen. I try to find what else is tense, and relax it. I can spend the better part of an hour relaxing things, because under one set of tense muscles, there's always another. The reactions are the same way, except it's mental stress easing up, not physical muscles.
I feel very vulnerable, just sitting there and feeling. It's me open to the world, which is right in front of me. I acknowledge that, and I keep sitting. I suddenly notice a tree that's about ten feet away; I hadn't seen it before. But it was there all the time. Here. Now.
Sometimes I get hungry, and I have to stop to go get some food. Sometimes I find myself nodding off. That's fine; I'm getting in touch with my body, which is saying I need to eat, or I need more sleep. Dozing for twenty minutes is not a waste of time, and I'm able to go back to my day somewhat refreshed. Not every attempt to sit will go the whole distance. Every day is different, and that's okay.
If I'm not distracted by my body's needs, if I can hold my attention for long enough, I reach a point where I'm not really thinking anymore. My breathing has settled into slow, deep, regular breaths. I'm aware of so much more of what's around me than I was twenty minutes ago -- it's like I'm seeing with a hawk's eyes, picking out the minutest details. And there, if I'm fortunate, I settle into a calm that is unlike anything else, where I can hear it.
I call it the Hum. The deep, never-ending tone that underlies everything. It's so soft you almost hold your breath to hear it, but so profound it drowns out all thought. I can understand why Eastern monks have a tradition of sharing an "om" -- they are mirroring the Hum.
My mental focus has never held up for more than about forty minutes, so I don't spend much time in that state... but even just getting there leaves me calm and focused when I get up and deal with the rest of my day. My anxiety and depression are whispers of their former selves. My stress is gone, and I feel like I have enough time and energy to do all the things I need to. I usually do, too -- the lack of stress gives me spoons I hadn't been able to count on before, and my focus lets me finish things faster and more thoroughly. And if I can't finish everything, I'm able to look calmly at the remainder and say, there will be time later. No beating myself up, no stress over how to get it done. I know I'll get to it and finish it, just not here and now.
Half an hour changes my entire mental state. I would love to train myself to sit for an hour, or even two. I've heard of Zen practitioners who can sit for an entire day. I can't even imagine what that would do for my mental and physical health, though I'd like to try.
After all, anyone can do it. You can, if you like. All you have to do is sit.
I don't just mean that my butt is in a chair; I mean it like the Zen masters mean it. I sit. Not every day, sometimes not for months. But whenever a crisis passes and I'm finally able to breathe freely, one of the first things I do is to sit. I'd love to be in a situation where I have the opportunity to sit every day.
I taught myself. That means what I do is not Zen; that requires a teacher, and a lot of tradition. I'm not sure what to call what I do. It's not meditation, at least in the way that most people mean it. It does give me calm, and peace of mind, and lowers my stress level. How does it do that? I just... sit.
Anyone can do it. That doesn't mean it's easy; anyone can learn to play chess, too. But it is accessible. Even the first attempt can be beneficial, and every time you do it it gets easier, even though the first few times teach you how hard it can be to simply sit.
How do you do it?
First, find a half hour without interruption. If this seems impossible, then you're one of the people who could probably benefit the most from sitting. A half hour spent will give you an extra hour in your day. It sounds absurd, but it's true. I can never believe it either, yet every time I'm surprised.
Next, find a quiet place where you feel safe and comfortable. Physical comfort is secondary once you get the hang of it; I've managed to sit outside in 40-degree weather, and by the time I was done my hands were perfectly warm without gloves. But for the first few times, make sure you have a good seat and you are in comfortable clothes. A chair is fine, no need to sit on the floor.
Important note: The location should not be anywhere you are responsible for maintaining. I don't sit in my house or my yard. Why? Because wherever I look, there are things I should be doing, tasks which need to be dealt with. I sit in a park, or in the library, or in a coffee shop. In a pinch I sit in my car, because there are very few things there that "need to be done". Get away from the to-do list.
Finally, set an alarm (if you have limited time available) and silence your phone. Get rid of potential interruptions.
Then... sit. I like to do it outdoors, where there are nice things to look at, but it's not required. Don't try to make your mind a blank. Don't think about your breathing. What you want to do is to focus on being present -- here, now. You'll find thoughts intruding; let them pass on through, and when they finish, come back to here, now. You can think about what to have for dinner, later. You can mull over that meeting you had, later. Right now, you are here. Look at it. Hear it. Feel it.
Here. Now.
You may become aware that you're not completely comfortable. Shift your position if you need to. I often start out sitting one way, then gradually shift until I'm in my usual position, feet flat and hands resting on my thighs -- but it never feels comfortable to start there.
Try to find where you have tension. Are you sitting too straight? Are your shoulders or neck tight? Are you using your belly muscles? Relax that. It may take a few minutes, that's fine. Just be present as you work on it. You're here, now, and those muscles are easing so you have to shift your arms to a different position. Just keep sitting.
It takes me about ten minutes just to be really aware of where I am. I heard there's a psychology study to that effect; it's why I never try to do it for less than ten minutes. Thoughts come less often. I wonder whether I'm done yet. I feel like it's a waste of time. I get a little restless. But I keep sitting.
Around fifteen minutes, reactions set in. I usually get anxious. Sometimes I laugh for no reason, or my breath gets really choppy like adrenaline letdown, or I shake myself like a dog because everything feels tight. I just let it happen. I try to find what else is tense, and relax it. I can spend the better part of an hour relaxing things, because under one set of tense muscles, there's always another. The reactions are the same way, except it's mental stress easing up, not physical muscles.
I feel very vulnerable, just sitting there and feeling. It's me open to the world, which is right in front of me. I acknowledge that, and I keep sitting. I suddenly notice a tree that's about ten feet away; I hadn't seen it before. But it was there all the time. Here. Now.
Sometimes I get hungry, and I have to stop to go get some food. Sometimes I find myself nodding off. That's fine; I'm getting in touch with my body, which is saying I need to eat, or I need more sleep. Dozing for twenty minutes is not a waste of time, and I'm able to go back to my day somewhat refreshed. Not every attempt to sit will go the whole distance. Every day is different, and that's okay.
If I'm not distracted by my body's needs, if I can hold my attention for long enough, I reach a point where I'm not really thinking anymore. My breathing has settled into slow, deep, regular breaths. I'm aware of so much more of what's around me than I was twenty minutes ago -- it's like I'm seeing with a hawk's eyes, picking out the minutest details. And there, if I'm fortunate, I settle into a calm that is unlike anything else, where I can hear it.
I call it the Hum. The deep, never-ending tone that underlies everything. It's so soft you almost hold your breath to hear it, but so profound it drowns out all thought. I can understand why Eastern monks have a tradition of sharing an "om" -- they are mirroring the Hum.
My mental focus has never held up for more than about forty minutes, so I don't spend much time in that state... but even just getting there leaves me calm and focused when I get up and deal with the rest of my day. My anxiety and depression are whispers of their former selves. My stress is gone, and I feel like I have enough time and energy to do all the things I need to. I usually do, too -- the lack of stress gives me spoons I hadn't been able to count on before, and my focus lets me finish things faster and more thoroughly. And if I can't finish everything, I'm able to look calmly at the remainder and say, there will be time later. No beating myself up, no stress over how to get it done. I know I'll get to it and finish it, just not here and now.
Half an hour changes my entire mental state. I would love to train myself to sit for an hour, or even two. I've heard of Zen practitioners who can sit for an entire day. I can't even imagine what that would do for my mental and physical health, though I'd like to try.
After all, anyone can do it. You can, if you like. All you have to do is sit.
