iSit is my campaign to embrace the practice of meditation once and for all.
To sit and do nothing is not an act of idleness and passivity. It is an active choice to get quiet, still and present - 'cause that's where all the real stuff is happening anyway.
Here's what I've learned so far:
1. It helps to set an alarm. You might be tempted to peak at the time, but having an automatic time-keeper helps frees you to let go of abstract goals and objectives, and instead focus on your experience. Just make sure the alert isn't loud and annoying: Today I was jarred out of my Zen place with an irritating "boing-boing" noise. Tomorrow it will be a lovely harp.
2. Best to sit upright to meditate. On Day 2, I began with a morning five-minute sit/float in the hot tub. Sitting tall, I watched my breath move in and out of my nostrils and observed the sensations of my body receiving and releasing my breath. I was quickly distracted by the 43-degree Celsius water. This is probably what hot flashes feel like. And the sensations of bubbles and buoyancy. Coolio. I am a meditating goddess. It felt effortless to hold myself upright. Reminder: buy Yoga Swing to explore the effects of anti-gravity. And the effervescence against my skin was more delightful than usual. Amazing, how the intensity of experience gets dialled up when you give 100% of your attention. Makes you wonder what you've been missing. Ommmmmm.
I taught a yoga session Monday night and wasn't feeling so hot beforehand. When I started to feel nauseous during class, I brought the students into a Warrior I-Intense Side Stretch sequence and paused a moment to check in. I allowed myself to experience the dis-ease in my belly without trying to alter my condition, but rather accept and breathe through it. But no sooner had I zoomed in on the unsavoury sensations than my mouth erupted into saline waterworks which signalled that I was going to be sick. I ran for the door, regretfully leaving my students in a deep pretzel bend, and hurled full throttle into the garbage can next to the water cooler. Upchuck-asana. Now that is a first.
Needless to say, my evening meditation was completed in supine position in bed, during which my efforts were usurped by Neo Citron and my cozy fleece blanket. Om to the Zee.
3. It's freakin' hard. Day Three, I thought it would be fun to do a fireside meditation, but the frenetic dance of gas fire flames tripped me out, so I slammed my eyes shut, and kept it simple. One second my mind is empty and spacious, flames forgotten, and I'm listening to my lively heart beat; the next, I'm contemplating the effects of caffeine on my blood pressure, due to the coffee I had while walking through Ikea two hours earlier, wondering what the secret ingredient is in Tim Horton's blend, and fantasizing about the lengths to which they go to keep their narcotic additive under tight wraps. I'm visualizing covert armed factory drop-offs of unmarked shipments. Not even top execs are privy to the nature of the Secret Spice. ... I'm pretty sure this is not meditation anymore. Crap. Back to my breath. Now there's that lovely harp.