The real solace for me in this life, as it has been for many, was my introduction to the Twelve Steps, the superstar being Step Eleven. Through the practice of meditation I have learned to just sit and observe. I love the magic of my breath, which I feel by paying attention as I breathe in and breathe out. This practice also brings my awareness to uninvited thoughts as they arise. I’m able to sit and note their presence, while letting them travel on by as I say good-bye, repeatedly returning to the breath.
When we do not observe the nature of the mind, it’s as if the mind has a mind of its own. Soon we are once again lost in our emotions. I’m confronted many times a day by obstacles that my thoughts try to convince me are real. But the practice of meditation acts as a translator to what is going on within. When feelings arise unobserved, they can take us captive. We become subject to anything they suggest, which may be anger, fear, or sadness. Going to our meditation cushion each morning, we can look forward to the practice of observing what arises. With a sudden awareness, we pinpoint why we are sad—the loss of a job, for example—but with clarity we see that many areas of our life are full of loving kindness. We can then let the sadness be with us, but it is not our whole life. We make friends with these uninvited guests, these emotions, learning to embrace them as they arise, bringing intimacy to the mystery of our mind.
My introduction to the twelve-step philosophy of “one day at a time” was a surprise awakening. It was a concept that freed my mind from thinking too far ahead, but twenty-four hours has now become a lifetime of thoughts. Meditation practice is about coming back to the present moment; even thinking of things in the near future can be the ego’s attempt to open an unwanted doorway within.
I find that when grace snatches me out of the hands of ego and I remain present, I still cannot deny feeling “the presence.” It’s like landing in the lap of the divine. The joy and bliss that arise in that moment cannot be described with mere words. Is there more to enlightenment than being comforted in the moment? Maybe, maybe not.
While you practice meditation, I encourage you to sit through the restlessness, which is only the rhetoric of the ego. Restlessness is the ego’s attempt to detour the seeker from sitting and touching his or her true nature. Countless times meditation practitioners have sat upon their meditation cushions and immediately experienced an explosion of thoughts. The goal of the practice is to disarm these thoughts. Our minds will unleash every distraction to convince us to stop meditating and busy ourselves with the nonsense of some unimportant task in a continued attempt to capture our attention.
It seems, at times, that the mind’s sole purpose is to keep the practitioner distracted. A single inhalation and exhalation will introduce the silence of our own truth. The veil that separates us from our divine nature is so thin that it can be dispelled by the gentle breeze of breathing mindfully.
Simply put, the ego cannot survive in the moment. The practice of mindfulness is the invitation to the spiritual experience that will cause a profound personality change. This will result in the exhaustion and ultimate collapse of the ego.
The setting for your practice is important. When talking about my own Eleventh Step practice, I usually refer to myself as a bit “airy-fairy,” by which I mean that my wife and I have a meditation room that is just for that purpose, a shrine-like environment decorated with artifacts we deem holy. You may find your favorite ambience in nature: sitting on the shore by the ocean or strolling through the woods and settling down by a stream to embrace your quiet surroundings.
Practiced meditators suggest that we create a spot to return to daily. I encourage you to explore this idea, whether the space is on your deck outside overlooking an expansive view, in a particular room in your house, or in a certain corner of a room. We can create a holy and inviting setting as long as we return daily. The continuous practice in the same space will effectuate the vibration of peace. You will find yourself wanting to continue with your practice as you approach your sitting area.
I find the early morning to be the best time to meditate. It is said that when the world around you starts waking up, its mental vibrations can be picked up. This is why 4:00 a.m. is a nice time to begin sitting, as most people in your neighborhood won’t be awake yet. Sitting with one’s own busy mind is enough to attend to, and when you bring in the sounds of the whole waking community, observing not only your thoughts but everyone else’s will become an exhausting practice. I realize 4:00 a.m. may not be practical for everyone, so any time after you wake up but before starting your busy day would be desirable. The fact that you sit any time, rather than just thinking about it, will be of great benefit.
The ambiance my wife and I have created in our meditation room makes the early-morning call to practice one of ongoing enjoyment. I awaken between 3:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. almost every day. The ritual of practice begins as I walk downstairs and into the meditation room, which is already aglow with the inviting warmth of indirect lighting. My meditation cushion is in place before an altar; holy images of spiritual figures seem to gaze back at me. I sit between two large Tibetan singing bowls, and as I strike the bowls, their vibrations engulf the room; various crystals seem to catch the glow of candlelight. The fragrance of sandalwood incense in the huge brass holder fills my surroundings, and I find myself being transported to a singular place in my consciousness—my meditation has begun. This doesn’t happen automatically. It was established by a daily practice that has existed for decades. In my experience, the excitement to sit each day in a space that was created for Eleventh Step practice is enticing and effective.
I always assure people that I don’t care how they practice Step Eleven, either by prayer or by meditation. The technique will probably vary over the years, but the key elements are discipline and passion for the practice. I have been meditating on a regular basis since 1966 and have been initiated into many different forms of practice. For the past twenty years I have been practicing mindfulness; I’m drawn to the school of Theravada Buddhism, from where the now-popular Vipassana, or insight meditation, originated. You will find the word mindfulness is used throughout this book. It is the technique of following the breath to remain present. Mindfulness comes from the Sanskrit words sati, which translates to “basic awareness,” and smirti, which means “to come back” to awareness when the mind starts to stray. Simply put it means “Pay attention to what is.”
Mindfulness is an intentional, nonjudgmental awareness of remaining in the present moment. Acceptance of what life offers in each moment becomes a prayer. We sit with awareness and observe what arises. We don’t try to fix or change our experience; instead we let life become both the student and the teacher and allow each moment to become our lesson plan.
The common way to practice mindfulness (Vipassana) is to begin by finding a comfortable position that will keep the spine straight. Some people will cross their legs or sit in a lotus position; others find a meditation bench beneficial. Regardless of the technique or seated position, you want to be careful to not cut off or inhibit circulation. If you sit in a chair, be sure your feet are flat on the floor, or if outside, flat on the ground. I use a meditation bench. It’s as though I’m kneeling, but I’m sitting on a low bench with my legs tucked under me. In this position, the pressure is not on my legs.
Breathe normally and follow the breath as it enters through the nostrils. It might be a cool or warm sensation, or you might sense a rising and falling of the chest or belly. Just follow the sensation of the moment as you breathe in and breathe out. The practice is to consciously breathe. You might notice that you are