Evening 8/29/07

Stopped short of my 30 minutes of meditation. Restlessness, unable to sit still, fidgeting. Train whistles blowing, mind blowing off in a thousand directions, scattered.

Asana 8/28/07

Tonight I did a series of asanas, a warm-up, a side-bend pose, a balance pose, a twisting pose, a forward bend, a back bend, and an inverted pose. I put emphasis on the back bend pose, the cobra. Feeling energy extend through my legs and feet as I raise my upper body from the floor without pushing with my elbows. Feeling strong, flexible, slight tension in shoulders. I did this several times, concentrating on relaxing my shoulders and using core muscles to raise my body slowly. Feeling more relaxed and natural as I continue to bring awareness to the motion of raising my upper body from the mat. Feel a pain in upper right side, where I once was diagnosed with a duodenal ulcer. Mental note to pay attention.

After asana practice, I did a self-massage with sweet almond oil and took a hot epsom salt bath, very relaxing, the feeling of caring for myself.

I then sat in vipassana meditation for 30 minutes. The only note of this is: very sleepy tonight. Cat lying beside me. Head slumping forward several times.

Evening, 8/27/07

Sitting for meditation after taking a hot epsom salts bath, feeling clean and relaxed. The cat follows me to the cushions. He sits on his cushion. I sit on the couch. He gets up and sits next to me, his head resting on my thigh, purring. I smile; this is bliss. After while the cat gets up and lies on the back of the couch, sleeps. A loud crash from outside, like something metal or plastic falling. Sounds like it might be in the neighbor's yard. Slightly fearful about what might be going on outside. No more such sounds, just trains moving through the valley, my heart beating, refrigerator running, some pops and snaps of the house settling. For some time I lose awareness of my breath, enter an interior landscape, lots of cows. Tickle in my throat, a few coughs, yawns. Straightening my posture. The timer goes off.

Sunday evening 8/26/07

Arriving home tonight. Hauling my belongings up the front stairs. As I sit to meditate, I feel the effort of bringing my stuff back in the house in a quickened breathing rate. Remembering conversations with my mom and daughter, some resolution to past family issues. Good conversations, a feeling of understanding. I brought home a plant that my mother didn't want anymore, noting my tendency to take in homeless dogs and cats and now a plant. The first few minutes after arriving home, I am lonely.

Evening, 8/25/07

Cool evening air comes in through the bedroom window, crickets singing outside. I smell the evening primrose oil night cream I put on my face. A few snores wake me, almost falling asleep. Thoughts come and go, nothing remarkable

Evening 8/24/07

Sitting on the couch, straight back, ankles crossed, feet resting on a cushion. Breath steady and natural. Thoughts arise about my trip to my home town tomorrow, all the typical thoughts about the town I grew up in. I let the thoughts arise and disperse as they will, trying not to attach to them or allow them to string together. Looking forward to the trip, getting out of town, a change of pace, new scenery, being with family. Vicki is driving from Port Townsend; and we'll both be staying at mom's. Feeling some regret that Beth and I haven't been able to connect the last two weeks -- phone tag, my inner conflict about wanting to stay in Spokane so I might be able to see her and the kids vs. seeing mom and Vicki in Wenatchee, a little guilt. Wondering how my practice will fare in Wenatchee. Will I just let it slide in the excitement of being with family and in a place where I don't feel like I can just plop myself down in the living room and sit like I do in my own home. My practice has been steady and strong lately, the strongest it has ever been. I'd like to think I might be able to sustain it as I make this trip. I will form the intent to do so and take along with me things that will support my intent: a cushion, a blanket, my notebook and laptop. I will not display my practice before my family, just don't want to make them watch me sit; it's pretty boring. So, I'll sit just before bedtime after I have closed the bedroom door and things have sort of settled for the night. As my chin slumps slightly against my chest, wisps of hair brush my cheeks, sleepiness.

Morning 8/24/07

Spontaneously woke up at 7:30 this morning, decided to get up and meditate. Sun is pouring through east living room window. I lie down on cushions, a blanket over me, and soak up the warmth of the sun. I drape the blanket slightly over my face; this sun is hot shining through the window. Relaxing, making a conscious effort to relax. Sometimes it's difficult to sense if an area of the body is tense or relaxed. Breath feels controlled in the beginning, becoming more natural as time goes by. Slight muscle spasms in left leg, in cycles. Cat attacks left foot. I wonder if he notices movement of left foot. Trying to relax, still slight spasms, probably would not be apparent if I was up moving around, active. I wonder if these spasms would show up on a nerve conduction test. Will mention them to doctor next time I go. Cat attacks left arm, mostly with soft paws, but enough claw and tooth to hurt a little. I cry out and act like I'm hurt. He does it again. It seems like he's just playing, but he's getting too rough. Suspend meditation at 2 minutes left.

Evening 8/23/07

I did something different tonight. I chanted for ten minutes before beginning meditation, an Indian bhajan, Radhe. I thought it might help release some of the tensions of the day and serve as a transition between the working day and meditation. So I sat down at the harmonium, played and sang the bhajan with eyes closed, in a meditative way as thoughts were coming and going. After ten minutes I lay down on the cushion and covered myself with a blanket and meditated for 30 minutes. I took some time in the beginning to adjust my posture so I was comfortable and then rested my attention on my breath. My mind touched on many things: conversations from the day, thoughts of various people, plans for the weekend, all coming and going. And as I become aware of mind wandering, I return to the breath, sometimes easy and natural and sometimes controlled and ragged. A few times, snores brought me back from a sleepy state. I felt chilly a couple of times. Before I knew it, the timer went off.

Evening, 8/22/07

Tonight, it was restlessness, the creepy, crawly feeling. When I first sat down to meditate, I was comfortable. I had been looking forward to meditating. My breath became easy and steady. Then I started to notice a slight muscle spasm in my left leg that would tighten up and release in cycles. Had I not been sitting still and meditating, I might not have noticed it. I made an effort to consciously relax. For a while there were no spasms. And then there was a big one. And, the restlessness got more intense, like something crawling all over me. I broke concentration and moved my feet a little. I quit the meditation about 11 minutes early. I'm thinking I'll have a nice hot bath and then go to bed. The restlessness seems to come up more often when I'm tired.

Evening, 8/21/07

A quiet evening except for the trains. Feeling my heartbeat in my mouth, my gums. I feel the cat step between my legs to get on his cushion. He seems to like this time when we sit together and are quiet. Once when I was walking around the house, he grabbed me by the leg as if to say, "Slow down; it's meditation time, time to quit walking around and be still." I once heard a sound that I couldn't identify, waiting to hear it again to see if I could figure out what it was. For most of the session I don't remember my thoughts or what was going on. The experience seemed pleasant to neutral tonight, just cruising along. It seems like I am experiencing less the need to control my breath. And, I'm also experiencing less concern with trying to remember what happened so I can write about it afterwards. The content of the experience just seems to sift out, like sand through my fingers.

Evening, 8/20/07

It seems unusually quiet tonight after a hard rain; sounds that do come have a different quality, sort of clean and crisp. I follow my breath and experience the qualitative difference between attending to my breath as a rising and falling of my chest and attending to it as it hovers about the tip of my nose. Attending to my breath at the tip of my nose seems more subtle, less a thing of the body, more wispy and random. Hearing heartbeat, ringing in ears, which seems very high-pitched tonight. Hearing trains whistle as they approach the crossings, each one a different pitch. Mind wanders, don't remember the content of wanderings. A sneeze erupts. Cat seems to sense it a second before it happens and startles. Thoughts arise about what I have learned so far by doing meditation practice:

1. There are many options for working with a situation, some more skillful than others. Sometimes the most obvious, or most instinctive option, is not the best.

2. My mind wanders.

3. I'm not getting enough sleep.

4. I can discipline myself to do even those things I don't like to do.

5. I can accomplish much by taking things in small steps.

6. I may take cues from my meditation practice and change the practice in small ways in which the practice seems to be heading.

7. I can choose to shorten the practice when I'm too tired to benefit from it.

8. I am attending more to messages from my body.

9. I am learning when I can push myself and when it is best to give myself a break.

10. Between 3 and 4 trains rumble through the valley in a half-hour period of time each evening.

Morning, 8/20/07

Sitting in the living room facing the east-facing window, my eyes are flooded with morning light. I sit comfortably with a blanket around my shoulders, and fall into a sort of reverie. An alabaster buddha encrusted with gemstones appears in my mind's eye. A feeling of my hands opening, fingers like the petals of a lotus flower. A figure with burning robes flying. I am choosing among several black backpacks with notebooks in them. I open one and look at the notebook. Inside is written the mantra "Om mani padme hum." A period of laser-sharp focus and awareness. The alarm goes off.

Evening 8/19/07

I lie in corpse pose on the floor cushions with a blanket over me. It's cool and rainy today. The cat walks over my body, kneading with his front paws, doing a sort of stomping dance with his back paws, purring, a cat massage. Trains blowing whistles, rumbling east and west through the valley. Relaxing, remembering earlier conversation with mom. Noting that it's starting to get dark earlier in the evening, feeling like fall. Deep breathing, feeling little pockets of tension, holding, pain.

Corpse Pose 8/17/07

I go with my idea from last night of lying in corpse pose for meditation. With the two cushions I bought for the cat and I, I make a pallet and lie down, arms at my sides, palms up, and just relax. Awareness of the floor supporting me, resting on the softness of the cushions. Awareness of breath, at first controlled, gradually relaxing and becoming natural. Awareness of mental conversations, a dreamlike state. Awareness of the total relaxation of letting go and allowing the floor to support me. Mental relaxation of trusting that I will be supported. Letting all tension drain away. The thought arises that this may be the best posture for evening meditation, a good transition from an active day to a restful sleep. Thought arises that meditation doesn't have to be an endurance contest with myself. This meditation session seems to have been more beneficial than sessions in which I have been sitting, almost grinding my teeth from tiredness, mental frustration, and restlessness. This works, so I'll use it more often. Morning is probably a better time for "sitting" meditation.

Evening 8/16/07

Itching in corners of both eyes, ringing in ears, the familiar ear-ringing that is so constant that I'm sure I tune it out most of the time. This is the time I attend to those things I tune out in ordinary consciousness. Involuntary muscle spasm in left leg, not painful, just an odd sensation to feel the leg tingle and tense without my having directed it to do so. It releases as well, in its own time. Then again, tensing. When the tensing becomes almost painful, I lie in corpse pose and relax into the support of the floor. The cushions feel soft, my body's weight evenly distributed. Spasms continue, but not as intense.

Evening 8/15/07

I cut the session short tonight because I'm very tired; legs ache, back aches, feet hurt. I caught myself slumping several times. It's what it is, just tiredness. Awareness of pain, still awareness. I'm giving it up for tonight and going to get some sleep.

Evening 8/14/07

I forgave myself the hour of housework tonight because I worked an hour of overtime at work and had to stop at the grocery store to pick up some things for lunches. It was about 11:00 when I got home. I fed the cat, washed a load of clothes, put the groceries away, and sat down to meditate.

The cat laid down on the carpet. I patted the empty cushion beside my cushion and said to him, "You can come over and meditate with me." He got right away what I was saying and got up and lay down on the cushion. But, he was soon up again and about his cat business.

Thoughts of the day's events, replaying mental tapes of conversations. Tiredness, tension, pain, in spine and rib cage. Body won't settle, mind won't settle, breath strained and ragged. Feeling of restlessness, and thoughts that this session is a waste of time, wanting to end the session early. But, I persist; the timer goes off. That's how it is.

Evening 8/13/07

The dissonance of the train whistle, a sound that clashes and reverberates in my ears. After that, quiet, a small time of spacious unbounded mind, my head feeling open, weightless, nothing. Train whistles, water running, breath. I get lost in it. Then, an itch on the side of my nose brings me back to alert awareness, something to focus on. Small slumpings, again, feeling enclosed by the house. I enter the cyberspace in my head, pointing and clicking, opening up windows, reading information. What is it, this computer and content I didn't know was there? Thoughts about recycling, what else can I do to help the earth? Thoughts of what I'm going to do when I finish meditating. A sound wakes me up. Deep breath

Evening 8/12/07

I have done an hour of housework, took my time, seems like the hour went quickly. I fed the cat, watered the lawn, took out the garbage, and went through some stuff I'd cleaned out of the car and threw it away, washed a load of clothes and hung it up to dry.

I sit on a cushion on the living room floor. Cat lies on his own cushion. I first realize that my throat is tense and relax it. When relaxing throat, a brief sensation of openness, emptiness, transparency, comes. I welcome this sensation, but it is so brief. Slight twinge of pain in upper right abdomen, being present with pain, breathing into it. This soon also passes. Breath becomes easy and subtle, sensation of breath barely hovering around the nostrils. Outer sensations seem even to quiet, reduce in volume: traffic noise, heartbeat, sounds of neighbors talking, all soften. Or is it my perception of them, my reaction to them, that softens? A popping sound, either the house settling or a moth flying into a window, startles, sensation of white light behind eyeballs. Feeling of alertness, even as a small slumping occurs. Alert in one part of brain, sleepy in another? I've read that dolphins sleep on one side of the brain at a time. Seems like a long session, wondering if I pushed the button to start the timer.

Evening, 8/11/07

Sitting in the living room on a cushion on the floor. I bought two of these cushions at Wally World. They're actually a pet bed (27" x 36"), big enough for an average sized dog to lie on. They're going in the meditation room for me and the cat. I'm in the process of cleaning out the room, storing the stuff in another part of the basement. There's also an old twin bed in the room that's got to go. I'm feeling rested as I sit; I've had enough sleep. Breath, after an initial feeling of control, smooths, a few deep relaxing breaths, and then steady and even. Mind goes from thinking about the make-over of the meditation room, to going in to work in the morning, to the cat, who sits behind me on the couch.

Afternoon, 8/10/07

I slept in this morning partly because I felt like it and partly because my sleepiness during meditation practice seems to be telling me that I'm not getting enough sleep. I didn't have to go in to work this morning, have the day off because I'm working on Sunday. I invited the cat into the room with me. He wouldn't come in until I had invited him. He got up on the ottoman. When I sat down, I just scootched him over a little bit. But, my seat seemed unbalanced, so I tried scootching him over a little more. Then he got down. During meditation I am able to attend to my breath; breath comes even and natural. I feel small areas of tension in my body and consciously relax them one by one. Small slumpings occur, and I make small adjustments, straighten up slightly. Thoughts arise about what I can do to allow both the cat and I our own space in the meditation room. Now, it is a meditation/storage room. So, if I move out the extraneous stuff and make it just a meditation room, a little nest with cushions, two chairs, pillows, blankets, that should allow both of us enough space to meditate without feeling crowded. I could also do asana and mantra in this room. These thoughts arise; meditation continues. I feel itching in my ear canals. I hear the water running on the lawn, feel the connection of my hands nested together, my ankles crossed. And, I didn't fall asleep once.

Evening, 8/9/07

I put off sitting tonight, practiced some avoidance behavior, reading for a bit. Still doing the hour of housework before I start meditation. That seems to be working well. My mind is strange. I wanted to get the housework done so I could meditate. And, then when it was time to meditate, I put it off by doing something else. Then I went downstairs to meditate. I had a short time of sleepiness. When I became conscious that I had been in a sleep state, I was conscious of the word, yoga. (I had been reading Yoga Journal before going downstairs to meditate.) Restlessness then came on the scene. My hands were in the same nested pose that I have used in the past. The sensation of each hand touching the other had left. And, there was just a vague sensation of hands touching, feeling like my hands were forming a big ball of yarn or were in a muff. I wanted to move my hands so that I could renew the feeling of sensing my hands touching each other. I resisted moving and alternated with staying with the feeling in my hands and just lightly attending to the feeling and observing what would happen with the feeling. The feeling of restlessness became more neutral, so that the urge to move was not so strong. But the feeling of the lost sensation of my hands touching each other remained. Wondering when the timer is going to go off, also the wish that maybe it has already gone off, and I didn't hear it, wanting the session to be over. A brief period of sleepiness, maybe avoidance of the feeling of wanting things to be done.

Evening, 8/8/07

Breath seems controlled for a short time, then smooths out. Physically and mentally tired. I feel itching around the left side of my nose, feel sweat pop out on my upper lip and forehead. Feeling warm with blanket draped around my shoulders; or it's a hot flash. Several times I fall into a sleepy state, dreaming of conversations with various people. I am sleepy, and so this meditation is mostly about fighting sleep.

Evening, 8/7/07

I have come home from work at 9:00. I do an hour of housework and eat a light meal before I begin meditation. I sit, and for some time my attention goes to sensations in my body: ringing in my ears, rumbling stomach, the sulfur smell of the match I lit the candle with. I am sitting with one hand nesting in the other in my lap and my legs crossed at the ankles. The feeling of this posture is that all my energy is self-contained and recycles itself through my body, instead of flying off to other places. It feels calming and centering. It seems that tonight I easily find that balance between relaxation and alertness, breath coming in its own natural rhythm. I counted maybe three or four times during the half hour that my attention wandered. Once a sort of Russian scenario in which I was talking to someone about my Jewish ancestors (I have none, where does this stuff come from?) There were a couple of small slumpings and an instance in which mind just wandered off somewhere. It seems like it was good that I worked around the house for an hour. It was a good transition between the fast-paced environment of work and the slower more inner-directed work of meditation. So, I earned my cushion time by doing an hour of housework. A good session, and I feel fairly rested and calm.

Monday evening 8/6/07

I stopped 2 minutes short of my 30 minute meditation session. My mind is playing tricks. I thought I could remember that the timer had already gone off, and I had gone over the time. The cat came in the room only after I was through meditating. This session, I had difficulty unwinding from a busy day at work. so it took a while for mind to settle. Then when it did settle, I would find myself entering that sleepy state, having little dream vignettes. In one, I was playing a computer game. In another, I was talking with a co-worker. Closing up the lab was crazy tonight, stressful, worked an hour of overtime. I am tired, and find it difficult to maintain that balance of relaxation and alertness that meditation requires. It feels boring and unproductive tonight. And, I didn't really want to meditate, but I made the effort. So, it's time to get some sleep.

Cat meditation, evening

Again, the cat and I went to the basement bedroom to meditate. I lit a candle on the altar and turned around to take my seat on the ottoman. There was the cat contentedly curled up in the middle of the ottoman I sit on. So, what to do. None of the meditation books I've read have addressed this issue. I talked calmly to him and tried to pick him up; and I got deep scratches on my hands and forearms for my efforts. I seem to remember reading once about a monastery somewhere that as part of their ritual, ties up the resident cat before meditations sessions. I am beginning to see the wisdom of this practice. I went upstairs to the bathroom and washed my hands and arms and put some antibiotic ointment on the scratches.

When I was able to sit down and begin meditation on the ottoman, I entertained thoughts about what I can do if the situation with the cat comes up again. Obviously, picking him up and moving him is not the most skillful means of dealing with him. I can either:

1) be faster than he is and get to the ottoman before he does.
2) sit beside him and just scootch him over a little.
3) let him have the ottoman and sit on the floor.
4) offer him a better option, such as a dish of his favorite food.

During the rest of the half hour I sit with eyes closed. I find that during this sitting, I more quickly recognize when my mind has wandered and more easily bring it back and make small adjustments in my posture as little slumpings occur. The cat did come back in the room and found himself a place on the bed.

Evening, 8/5/07

I begin meditation with my eyes open and do the trick of softening my gaze and relaxing my face so that I'm not really looking at anything in particular. But, it seems difficult to relax when my eyes are open. So, I go ahead and allow them to close. When I sat down to meditate, I had to pick the cat up off the cushion. I tried to do this in a gentle way so that he wouldn't be upset, but he had his mind set on sitting on the cushion and didn't want to be moved. I picked him up and tried to comfort him, but he just wanted down and left the room and didn't return during my meditation time. So, some of my thoughts during meditation go to the cat. After closing my eyes, I start to feel tension in my neck and relax that. It seems that when my eyes are closed, I am more in touch with my body and can quickly pick up cues about small lapses in my posture and correct them before they become slumps. My mind wanders, and I find myself being let into a prison cell, visiting someone in solitary confinement, which I think is odd because in solitary, I assume that people don't get visitors. That vision fades as I again come back to a more conscious state. Listening to the water running outside on the lawn, a sort of roaring, whining whoosh.

If the prison scene was a dream, which I suppose it was in a way, I would understand the person in the prison cell and the visitor both as parts of myself. (They arose within my mind). And I would ask myself who is the "I" who is in solitary confinement? And who is the "I" who is visiting the prisoner? (Well, I suppose it's true I don't get out much, what with working and working at home:-)) I'll give some thought to how I imprison myself and what I can do to set myself free.

Morning, 8/2/07

Since my tendency is to fall asleep when meditating with my eyes closed, I decided to try to meditate with my eyes open today. I have also been trying to get more sleep. Starting in, I feel the difference in meditating with eyes open. My attention tends to be directed outward instead of inward. I notice things that are going on in the space around me: the pattern of the tapestry cloth on the altar, the drooping flowers, the shadow of the ivy shivering in the wind outside the window, the large fly buzzing around the room. I hear also, this loud buzzing, hear and feel the beating of my heart and get a mental picture of an oil derrick rhythmically and mechanically pumping oil from its underground lake. I do not experience the physical slumping and falling into sleep that I did when my eyes were closed. When mind begins to wander, the natural response is to take a deep wakening breath. It is only toward the end of the session that I consciously soften my focus and relax the muscles of my face around my eyes so that vision, that most evocative sense, ceases to become a distraction. To take into my day: How does vision become a distraction as I go about my day?