A quiet mind …

My daughter was telling me about a lecture she recently attended where the expert was touting to the audience the value of meditation. More than that, they were making a point to ensure people understood that it was by no means a “religious” practice. Meditation had nothing to do with being from a different religion. Cause you know, some of the Christians get nervous when we look like we want to convert them with our zazen on the zafu. The speaker went on to say that you shouldn’t worry if you can’t silence the mind, because literally no one can do that.

But who am I to argue with the monkey mind? 😉 Each of us has our own mediation practice. Some people have a mantra or mudra and enjoy a daily sitting ritual. Others have mindful breath while walking in the sun. Some people enjoy the bliss of washing dishes or cleaning their living space .. albeit if you are listening to 70’s music on your TOZO that may not be the same thing. But you know .. maybe it is. A quiet mind isn’t necessarily about having no thoughts, but rather it can be the shift that occurs when there is no longer an ego claiming authorship of the thought train.

Today I have been working with the dark thoughts on an overcast dreary day with drizzles. Well, that’s the way the day began for certain, as the dogs were reluctant to go outside to piddle in the puddles. The hairless dog was most certainly grousing in the grass and would have retreated back to the warm bedroom had she not already been told that it was her job to watch over the little dogs who are much easier game for the coyote on the prowl. As it was two coyotes were spotted outside our house that morning. From dark thoughts to coyote ugly all in the course of an unnecessary incidental, is that not exactly what the mind loves to do?

When the mind moves freely from topic to tender spot it’s not so much the brainstorming as the stormy brain that draws us into the dread head that can feel like we are stuck in the muck of it all. The biochemical finger print creates more thoughts to match it’s mood and it feels as real as an existential Huis Clos, but Sartre and satire aside let’s just say I was swimming in the swamp of unsustainable heavy emotions. Yet it seemed I was doing a grand job of sustaining them, if not also pouring more gasoline on the embers of trauma nostalgia.

So I decided to sit. I had been in my daughter’s sun parlor enjoying her new sofa suite, as she is away on vacation and opted to sit in my SIL’s office where the skylight had remarkable warm light pouring down into the room, even on this cloudy day. I brought the PIO with me Bodisatva, or Bodhi, or BO as we call her to her food bowl. There was a burgandy pillow on the floor and I folded my legs up into a familiar full lotus and let my hands rest gently in front. I noticed at once, that my shoulders felt more relaxed as I locked my spine in place and touched the tip of my tongue to the front of my upper palate. I was home.

Bo on the other hand, had never or seldom been inside this Googler’s office. She was busy dashing around everywhere with her nose low and tail wagging high. Even as my gaze lowered, I could sense her shadow moving back and forth. The sound of her long nails tapping on the hard wood laminate. Tap-tit-tap-ta-ta tap-tap-ta-tit-scrit. And then she would come up on the carpeted platform and her toes crunched the pile scrunch-chrump-smoosh-crunch.

Back and forth from pergo to pedestal Bo pranced around the room, until if not all at once certainly it seemed purposeful, she took her place by my side. Perhaps it is their hairlessness, but the Peruvian Inca Orchid can have quite a commanding regal stance .. if their notoriously long tongue is not dangling out of their mouth. What was striking was Bo’s motionlessness. She sat as straight of spine as mine, with her head up and her breath slight and soft.

I could feel a smile on my face as she settled in. Then all there was for us was the warmth from the skylight and the stillness in the silence.

I don’t know how long we sat for, I didn’t set a meditation chime. There was no need. I simply wanted to sit. And I did. After a redneck minute or so long I suspect, I could feel Bo nudge at me gently with her cold nose. I’m sure she would have continued to sit stoic had I chosen to continue my sit-stay. But I also knew that sometimes especially on wet rainy days when my hypermobile joints can hyper-extend and cause more subsequent pain and since I was trying to avoid the finger painting of pain on the brain, I decided she must be insightful and it was indeed time to stand up again.

My daughter’s lecturer would be happy to know it was not a religious experience for me … but then again sharing the dharma with my dog could well be my testimony.