Stillness Appreciation
There was an ad on Facebook one day for a local meditation retreat. The opening text said, “Where do we go when we are experiencing unhealthy stress and reactivity? Where do we find calm amid the storms of life? Where do we find moments of pause, renewal, rest?” I stopped scrolling to read on. Moments of pause, renewal and rest? Yes, please!
I’ve been reading about the benefits of mediation for a long time. I’ve even started a mediation practice! Well, to clarify, I’ve started and stopped a meditation practice over and over again. I always think I’m doing it incorrectly, and so I give up, afraid that I’m abusing the art of the training. I have imposter syndrome when it comes to meditation.
The ad went on to say that true peace comes from within, and that the one-day meditation retreat would take a three step approach to teach us how to find that.
Bring awareness to sensations through sitting, breathing and moving
See thoughts, moods, and emotions as they come into the body
Appreciate moments of stillness in our daily life
I was hooked. I hovered over the “sign up here” button and finally clicked it when I read “all levels of experience welcome.”
I felt nervous pulling up to the space on the morning of the retreat. I struggled for what to wear, finally settling on yoga pants and layered tops in case I was cold just sitting all day. About 8 people were milling around the check-in table when I appeared, and I quickly noticed I was among the youngest of them. “We’ll get started in a minute,” a woman behind the desk said, “but once you check in, feel free to grab a chair, a pillow, or a blanket to sit on in the main room.”
I chose a colorful square pillow sitting atop a colorful, fringed Mexican blanket. At first, I let my legs stretch out in front of me, wool socks scraping the shiny wood floor. But as the instructor, Matthew, approached, I tried to look ‘legit’ and quickly folded into criss-cross applesauce, my ankles tucked squarely under my thighs. Matthew had a calming demeanor, quiet voice, and soft presence. I immediately felt at ease. He began the retreat with a short go-around to the group where we stated our name and what brought us there, and then gave us an overview of himself, including his years of meditation practice in Thailand, India, and Japan.
“Okay,” Matthew said, “let’s get started. I’ll begin by reading one of my favorite poems by Wendell Berry. When I finish, please relax and sit in stillness until you hear this chime.” He reached over and gonged the small singing bowl on the floor next to his leg.
The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Then, silence, silence, silence.
I sat on my pillow in the lotus position, listening to the squeal of the radiator in the back of the room, the vibration of someone’s cell phone in their pocket, the wind on the windows, and the beating of my own heart. I sat. My ear itched. Do I scratch it? I sat, wiggling my toes beneath my legs, breathing in through my nose and out my mouth. I sat, wondering how much time had passed, wondering what the next part would be like, wondering who smelled like musk. My ear still itched. Do I scratch it? My toes felt tingly. I sat and sat, wiggling my toes, feeling the numbness creep in. Silence, silence. My eyes were closed. Do I peek?
“Kriste, focus!” I thought to myself. “See? You don’t know how to do this properly.” I started counting my breaths. In through my nose, out my mouth. One. In through my nose, out my mouth. Two.
I got all the way up to sixty-two when I heard Matthew ring the bell.
“Excellent,” he said. He then went on to talk about the power of breath work and how it enhances the meditative experience by deepening relaxation and increasing focus. I didn’t hear much of what he said because I had spread my legs out in front of me again to find the pins and needles were everywhere.
“Our next phase will be a walking meditation,” Matthew said.
For the next twenty minutes we walked in a circle around the room, super slow. I felt my balance wavering as I conscientiously tried to walk as slow as I possible could to not trip on the older woman in front of me, who walked even slower than my slowest walk. “Watch your breathing,” Matthew said, “feel the floorboards, feel your socked toes touch down, be aware of your chest rising and falling with the breaths.” I listened to the instructions, tried to tap into my meditative self. I zoned out, barely shuffling along in the circle, breathing deep breaths, my eyes darting around the room as if I was frozen and they were the only way to observe around me.
We thankfully ended that meditation march and resumed our positions in the front of the room. This time, knowing how long it took my feet to regain circulation, I chose to sit on a hard chair, putting the blanket and pillow combination under my feet to elevate them. Matthew instructed us on a guided meditation, speaking softly - through a fog-filled forest, touching patches of cold dirt and wet moss, looking up to the sky to see black birds above, grey clouds, smelling a nearby fire burning in someone's cottage fireplace. It was heavenly. I got lost in the setting and felt a calmness creep over me. I knew I was in the chair, but my senses were awakened by Matthew’s descriptions of the setting enveloping us. I can’t tell you how long that meditation lasted, but when the singing bowl sang, I felt like our group had been among the trees for hours.
“Wonderful,” Matthew said. “We are nearly at the end of our time together, but I’d love to gather around for a few minutes and chat about this experience.” People shifted in their seats, some moving to the floor to spread out, others drinking from water bottles, one person heading to the bathroom.
“I wanted to thank-you, again,” Matthew started, “for joining me today in our inaugural Embodying Stillness retreat. I’m hoping it was interesting for you to try different methods of meditation to raise awareness in your body and appreciate the quietness that surrounds us daily. I’m open to hear any feedback, take any questions…” he gestured to us, collectively.
“I thought it was amazing,” said one lady. “I especially enjoyed the walking meditation as I’d never done that before. Being in constant motion was a new sensation for me in my meditation practice. I plan to try that at home as well.”
“Great,” Matthew said. “Anyone else?”
One by one people offered praise for the uplifting retreat, thanking Matthew for his guidance. I raised my hand. “I just have a quick question. It’s kind of silly. As a novice to meditation, what do you do when you have an itch? Are you supposed to scratch it, or meditate through it?” I felt stupid asking, but figured I’d never see these people again so I might as well get the answer.
“Excellent question, actually,” Matthew said. “You can absolutely scratch an itch. But maybe next time it happens, try to focus on the itch. Perhaps it can be a focal point of your meditation? Certainly acknowledge it, and be aware that it exists. Try not to react immediately to it. See if you can sit with it without reacting. Does that help?”
I shook my head, still a little confused. “Yes, thanks.”
People started shifting in their seats, indicating the time was near to end the retreat. I had enjoyed myself, but to be honest, I was ready to find a Diet Coke somewhere, some food, and to be alone. I thanked Matthew, smiled at the other participants, and headed to the door, leaving most of them still inside chatting with one another.
As I drove home, Spotify blaring on the highway, I was proud of myself for signing up for something that interested me but was scary. I had been nervous to attend because I thought I would be judged for not knowing the proper way to meditate. As it turned out, I was doing it just as well as anyone else in the class. A lesson important for me to realize and remember!
