Tending Joy

The infinite goodness
has such wide arms
that it takes whoever turns to it.
~ Dante

The other day Jonah and I were discussing the benefits of meditation.  He has recently introduced a time for quiet stillness into the beginning of his high-school social studies classes.  The kids now request it, as they have begun to feel the sense of calm and clarity they gain from it.  He senses it makes them more compassionate with each other as well.

I mentioned to him a product that I’ve been receiving email adds about- recorded technology that promises to have you meditating like a monk in no time.  The heavy handed promotion for this product offended me at first, as they described point by point all the advantages one would receive from meditation: creative insights, abundant cash flow and mind blowing sex, among them.  After some reflection, I realized that their claims were commercial, manipulative to the ego, yet somewhat true: when I pause for stillness, I often do receive a creative insight, a bit of wisdom, a creative idea.  I often feel increased energy, and an expansive sense of love and abundance through my connection to All That Is.

This poem captures the essence of a day in which I have remembered to meditate in the morning.  When I begin my day with a practice of stillness, I am often able to draw down and ground myself in an energy of love, clarity, generosity, and optimistic openness- grace.  This is the basis of a beautiful day.

First, stillness.
I center my waking
in remembrance of You.
Breathing in the moment,
inhaling Your warm friendship.
A light and a softness filters in.
Then, in the arms of
Your presence,
the laundry; the sewing;
the cobbling together a living.
You give me such joy.
Everywhere I go,
I bring my love for You.

~From the book, Moonlight and Remembrance
Mystic Love poems by Ingrid Goff-Maidoff

There are other mornings, often, when the day begins in forgetfulness with awful news on the radio at breakfast, checking emails, and darting frazzled and spinning into the work of production.  When and if I let myself go for too long without the daily discipline of meditating,  my days begin to feel as though they are driven by my inner accountant/ inner critic, and inner bishop.  I lose my sense of love and balance, and an element of survival, stress , struggle and strife can come seeping in.  I find that it’s in those days, when I need it the most, that I often fail to give myself a necessary break.

Sometimes just getting started is the most difficult aspect of meditation.  One suggestion is to use a timer and set it for five to twenty minutes, so you get a chance to let go of watching the clock and slip into a pocket of eternity.  As Rumi said, “Come out of the circle of time and into the circle of love.”

I have a kitchen timer which is a plastic bauble of a mouse hovering over a piece of cheese.  It’s very noisy and I have to keep it in another room, but it works.  Someday I would like to have a new-age sexy timer that strikes a gong or rings church bells, but for now, this timer keeps me humble and able to laugh at myself.  It reminds me that I don’t meditate to acquire the cheese of better sex, money, fortune, fame.  I meditate to drop my ambitious striving and anything else that comes between me and feeling at one with the world.

The first time I created  a separate space for meditation was when the children were very young and it became clear to me that I needed to set aside time for grounding and reflection if I was going to keep a loving household.  I cleared out a small closet in our bedroom which had a shelf and a tiny window.  I would retreat in there at least once a day, to close the door and give myself, as I explained to the girls, a time out.  This felt at the time like less of a gift to myself and more a coping strategy.   I used this especially on rainy days or if the weather was too cold for a solitary walk along the shore.  It was my intention to go into the closet when I  felt frazzled, sit, breathe, lean into love, and come out realigned with patience and generosity.   I retreated there fairly often, less to anchor and ground myself in a morning practice (which would have been beneficial) and more to regain some composure throughout the day.  It was a bit comical, and shortly into this practice I had an epiphanal realization that it must be working when Bella turned to me, no more than three years old, eyed me up and down as I was trying to keep it all together, and announced, “it’s time for mommy to go into the closet.”

In my heart there’s a peaceful island,
surrounded by oceans of You.
I like to string my hammock
and rest there idle and free.
When I return, my loved ones
snuggle in close,
just to get a whiff of you ~
to feel some of Your blessings~
to catch some of Your rays.

~From the book, Moonlight and Remembrance
Mystic love poems by Ingrid Goff-Maidoff

We live in a new house now, the girls are quite grown, and I’ve cleared a little corner in my office for sitting in stillness.   I  view meditation as a gift I give myself, and as a spiritual practice or discipline- it is all these things.  Meditation helps me become aware of the many voices strategizing for survival in my head- and to look upon them with sympathy and compassion, even patience and humor.  I may not sit for long enough, and I may not always “do it right”, but when I sit with the intention to ground myself in simply being, to reconnect with the deepest essence of who I really am, I often re-emerge  restored to ease, clarity, and with a nourishing  and joyful infusion of energy, oneness, and love.

Is meditation a gift you give yourself?  Do you find benefit from it?

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