Meditation Log - timing is everything

The last couple of mornings have been too early to carve out an extra 30 minutes. I sat last night instead, and it's a different energy. The yogi in India had stressed that the best time to meditate is at sunrise. If not then, sunset. Sit at midday only if you didn't have any other choice. Before practicing myself, I thought this was some overly mystical hoo-haa that wasn't connected to practical experience. It turns out there are fairly pragmatic reasons for it.

Early enough in the morning here in the city, you get a peace you don't get the rest of the day. There is a certain energy to the dawn that is invigorating but not boisterous. Even on weekends, when I sleep in a bit before sitting, late morning has lost that feel. But it's not just a "feel," it's the neighbors up and about, the traffic crescendoing, and the general buzz of life on the sidewalk.

Last night was the second or third time I had sat at night at home. Yes, it was quieter than mid-day, but it's a winding down quiet. A different tempo to my thoughts.

Off to bed now, so I can be up early tomorrow!

Shabbat in India

“Was your trip to India a spiritual one?” was the most common question put to us after we returned from our two-and-a-half-month honeymoon. A bit of a trick question. As we trekked around Northern India, we didn’t stay in ashrams or follow any gurus; we stayed in on Shabbat and rested. And along the way, we learned a few things:

The sacred becomes so through preparation
As is bound to happen, some weeks we had time to prepare and some weeks we were rushed. The deepest experiences—when we really were able to sink into the Shabbos energy—came when we had all day Friday to run the little errands to make the day special. Candles, spices, fresh fruit and other non-cook items were a pleasure to shop for in the markets. We also made sure we had good books to read and chose comfortable accommodations. Spending a day getting ready made the day itself feel all the more special.

Shabbat is about community!
We had the Beyt Tikkun Shabbat booklet, we sang the songs, but we missed the people. Even when we are into our own prayers or meditation, there is comfort in knowing that there are others doing the same thing. When we observe Shabbat at home, we enjoy having a “drop-in” for our friends to stop by unannounced, but on our trip, we were fairly isolated —if isolated is a word you can really use in a country of 1 billion people! The time we found a fellow traveler to join us (and even the instances when we invited someone but the timing didn’t work out) gave us a great sense of connection and comfort.

We really need Shabbat
When you’re just wandering around the world for months on end, you wouldn’t think you’d need a break. After all, you’re not working! Perhaps BECAUSE it was a foreign place, however, our need to have programmed downtime was even more evident. We looked forward to Shabbat and the centering effect of consciously not doing.

Shabbat helps us experience the world more deeply
Along with the restful, calming effect of taking a break from the hustle of travel, observing Shabbat helped us reconnect with our spiritual selves and affirm the divine in ourselves and in others. And on Sunday when we rejoined the delicious chaos that is India, we were open to all the colors, sounds, smells, and smiling faces, and ready to experience another week of living in a foreign (but maybe not so foreign) country.

Co-written with Amberly

It made me cry

Yesterday, I heard an incredibly moving pair of stories on NPR about folks recalling their experiences surviving Hurricane Katrina, almost exactly a year ago. I cried.

I cried because every statistic in that disaster has an equally heart-wrenching story behind it. I cried because every disaster has those kinds of statistics. It's too much for one person to bear, the pain and sadness in this world. Life and relationships are both so fragile, which is what makes them so beautiful.

The Talmud tells a story of Rabbi Eleazar on his deathbed, being tended to by Rabbi Yochanan. Rabbi Yochanan sees that he's crying (after lighting up the room with his bare forearm!), and asks him why. After several miffed guesses, Yochanan lets Eleazar speak, "I am crying for all this perfection, all this beauty which is fading into the earth."

Thank God that we are able to see the beauty and perfection of the world (and its inherent fragility), and also that we aren't so overwhelmed by it at every instant that we are incapable of functioning in our daily lives.

I am writing this on Shabbat, which shames me a little - not an auspicious way to start this blog! But in a way (traditional observances aside) this is what Shabbat is about - seeing the world for what it is and reveling in the grandeur of its creation without trying to impose our will upon it. I am glad for that.

A postscript from Rebbe Nachman:
Know! A person walks in life on a very narrow bridge. The most important thing is not to be afraid.

Learning to Fly

Since our return from India nearly four months ago, I have taken up a meditation practice. In some ways, this makes me feel quintessentially California, and maybe that's all it is - I've been in SF too long. But maybe there's something to it. It seems that all the roads to enlightenment go through meditation.

I call it learning to fly. By that, I mean the meditative state of consciousness without thought, alertness without inner dialogue, or whatever other phrase you want to use to describe the nut of the matter. I sit every morning (with a couple of exceptions per week), but I'm just a hatchling - I don't take flight very often. When I do, however, it's like nothing else! I've never had an addictive personality, but I have to say I'm hooked.

Further posts will hopefully be more enlightening than this one. I just felt I needed to start this site today.