I've meditated almost every day since 1969, when I became studying yoga during my college years under the instruction of a crazed Greek man who blended Christianity and Hinduism in a strange way.
Even so, I still consider myself almost as much of a beginner when it comes to meditation at my age of 76 as I was at the age of 20. (Guess that's why I like the book, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind.)
I have no idea what produces real growth in meditation. But other people do. Like the author of The Mindful Geek, Michael W. Taft. I started reading the book last year, writing a post in December called "'The Mindful Geek' is a meditation guide for secular skeptics."
Then I put the book away after getting through about half of it. Today I picked it up again, reading and enjoying the chapter on Acceptance. Taft considers acceptance to be key.
In mindfulness meditation, you try to accept every experience. Even if the experience is unpleasant, negative, or unsettling, you attempt to accept it as it is. That's why the meditation algorithm includes the acceptance step -- it reminds you often to let go of any resistance to whatever you're meditating upon.
Acceptance is the key to real growth in meditation. All of the practices in this book are effective to some degree at improving your life. Different people respond better to some than to others, but they all work well.
If, however, I had to choose just one thing out of this whole book, a single practice to give someone to most improve their life, it would be the practice of acceptance. In my opinion, acceptance has the most power to positively impact your sense of wellbeing. You can practice acceptance as part of meditation and also as you walk around in daily life.
This is a rather trivial example, but it comes easily to mind because I just experienced it -- having watched the Oregon State baseball team lose to Coastal Carolina in the Men's College World Series. Being an Oregon State fan (go Beavers!), I wanted the team to win.
After a disastrous first inning where the Beavers quickly ended up down 3-0 to Coastal Carolina, I held out hope for a win until the final innings. Eventually it dawned on me that for this game at least, Coastal Carolina was the better team, having better pitching, hitting, and fielding (that's basically all that baseball consists of).
With that realization, which could be termed acceptance, I was able to watch the rest of the game in a much more relaxed fashion. I had stopped feeling that something was wrong with Coastal Carolina leading Oregon State 6-1, that somehow this was an undeserved punishment of the Beavers by the Baseball Gods.
I still wanted Oregon State to win their next game on Tuesday, which would put them into a rematch with Coastal Carolina (they'd have to beat undefeated Coastal Carolina twice to make it into the World Series finals next weekend). But I could accept them losing again to a team that outplayed them today, the final score being 6-2.
Taft shares what he calls a "pseudo-math equation" created by Shinzen Young, a former math professor who uses that sort of equation to describe the principles of meditation.
The equation is simple: P x R = S, or "pain times resistance equals suffering." This means that your level of suffering from pain is dependent upon how much you can let go of resisting it. In other words, relief from pain is all about how much you can accept the pain. Japanese author Haruki Murakami has a famous quote, which sums up the situation nicely: "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."
This applies to both physical and mental/emotional pain. I was feeling quite a bit of pain about Oregon State losing to Coastal Carolina until it dawned on me that the Beavers' opponent simply was better than they were today. Once I stopped resisting this fact, my mental pain dropped considerably. Not to zero, because I still am bothered that they didn't win. But considerably.
The final part of the Acceptance chapter deals with emotional acceptance. This passage makes a lot of sense to me.
One of the most common complaints I hear from meditation students is that they had a "bad meditation." Upon inquiry, it turns out that they experienced some negative emotions during sitting, and that's why it was "bad."
Often, they had been looking forward to having a good meditation, and so they were disappointed, angry, upset, ashamed, and/or guilty about the fact that they felt bad during meditation. Really, their "bad" meditation was a good meditation that simply felt unpleasant.
True, meditation is supposed to improve your wellbeing, but that doesn't mean it will always improve your emotions during practice. It also doesn't mean that you will never feel bad. I'll discuss specific ways to deal with emotions in the coming chapters, but in this context, the important thing is to simply accept them.
Fighting everything all the time, resisting what's happening, creates a lot of needless stress. You can wear yourself out struggling against the inevitable, and stress is bad for you. At least during your meditation practice, if not at any other time during your day, let go of all the struggling.
Let go of resistance. Relax, release tension, let go of the need to change everything. Say, "Yes" to experience. Breathe easy. Let everything just be the way it is right now, even if that's scary and it hurts. You'll feel better if you do.
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