What is meditation? Notes for a would-be meditator

These notes are taken straight from Meditations from the Tantras, my battered pink book of many years ownership and sadly, less use. Writing this blog may change all that. Here we go - a picture through statements:

Higher stages of meditation are difficult to attain if we don't remove most of the compulsive fear that we have in the lower mind.
The ideal situation is where an external object is experienced, yet at the same time awareness of oneself is not lost.
The aim of meditation is to give a glimpse of the inner life and eventually to connect it with the outer life.
We are continually in a state of tension because we do not know ourselves (our inner nature). We often do things that are contrary to our nature which causes conflict.
Unity between what we are and what we want would cause meditation to occur spontaneously.
We can experience knowledge as a feeling or emotion. We can mentally feel the truth of an idea or emotionally sense that something is true.
The deeper aspects of life show themselves during meditation.

I am a believer in meditation. I must be, because whenever anyone tells me they have a problem and asks for advice my immediate answer is 'meditate'! (They don't ask me any more.)

Reality is for those who can handle drugs

Tom Robbins once said 'Reality is for those who can't handle drugs' which was a clever play on 'Drugs are for those who can't handle reality'. Well I have a new take: 'Reality is for those who can handle drugs'. I bought a book last night - David Michie's Hurry up and meditate. The title says something about how the book will read. Straightforward and to the point. There is a quote in the book attributed to Einstein (other quote sources range from the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius to the American writer Henry Miller): 'Reality is an illusion, albeit it a persistent one.'
In the state of samadhi (Meditations from the tantras) 'the self-consciousness of the mind disappears. The duality of object and perceiving subject disappears so that the object and subject become one.' The book says it is almost impossible to describe this state but has a pretty good go at it. A friend commented that people might experience the same thing through drugs. I pointed out that they might get a glimpse of it, but it would not be lasting (other effects of the drug might be though!). Whereas someone who has jumped mind and other hurdles to finally experience samadhi 'maintains deep wisdom and peace and expresses it in everyday activities.' This conversation led me to the above twist on the original and the title for this blog.

Crickets

Well it has finally really rained instead of being a predicted occasional light shower that never happens. Raining is painful here in this dry state of South Australia, and becoming more painful as we have rivers that dry up and become diseased, and global warming kicks in. Is it the laugh of a higher power that places that need rain are getting drier, and places that don't need it are getting wetter? And so on. I dream occasionally of what the world would be like if we could make a melting pot of the weather - throw it in, mix it all around, and have an outcome of moderation all over the world. Four seasons. Or would it be like colour and come out an awful mucky green or black? (Not knowing enough about colour I probably have this wrong, but have mixed paints enough to picture the mucky green at least.)
Anyway, yesterday morning after really heavy rain the preceding day (hell/heaven we ran the risk of actually getting drenched) I went outside and realised there was a new sound in my humble garden. Crickets. Not visible but present. What do they do normally? They must be quietly living, waiting for a reason to sing/rub their feet together or whatever it is (I forget) that makes that sound. It was music to me anyway. I wanted to get there right under the ground with them and join the party.

Letting things get old

I went to an Australian Conservation Foundation event the other night featuring Professor Ian Lowe. He was a very good speaker, clear and plain. His main comment about how to address climate change was that we need to be more energy efficient. This brought to mind many things. My local council is having an exhibition with an environmental theme, and I had the idea to create an installation from my 22-year-old (and looking it) kettle and my not-quite-as-old hot water bottle. They go together anyway, and they both bit the dust around the same time. The kettle looked bad (like it had been on endless camping trips where it sat over an open fire) but the main reason I disposed of it thoughtfully was because it began to leak from the bottom so was no longer functional. The hot water bottle's rubber disintegrated when I filled it up one night, also rendering it useless. I gave the kettle to a friend to recycle the metal. The hot water bottle I kept with the public installation in mind, thinking to title it 'Letting things get old' (although the friend suggested I should call it 'Letting things get very dirty').
My mother, who was 10 when the Great Depression started (1929), hated old things, wanted everything to be new. At the time I was a hippy engrossed in old clothes, the older the better - 1940s, 30s, 20s. I even got my mother to make one of my grandmother's dresses 2 or 3 sizes smaller, and still wear it now. I have a vest of my grandfather's which I never wear but cannot part with (it has a darned hole - really).
Well all this gets round to asking why do we dispose of things so unthoughtfully? Partly because they probably don't last as long anyway (I can put this to the test with the new kettle which is the same brand), as we all know by now that it is not in capitalism's favour to make things that last. And partly because we don't appreciate old things, right down to people. But that would get me on to a whole other subject. I intend to explore the energy efficiency concept further, but one aspect is production (and over production).

Every breath you take...

Detachment, non-attachment, vairagya - are they the same thing? Apparently so, according to Sri Swami Sivananda at least: 'Vairagya is the opposite of Raga (attachment). Vairagya is dispassion. Vairagya is detachment.' (http://www.dlshq.org/discourse/aug2001.htm)
I find the concept mystifying - how do you achieve real detachment? When I try to observe my body and mind in this way, I find I then become attached to my heartbeat or some other aspect of the practice, but it still feels like attachment. I am attached to my detachment if that makes sense. It is hard to describe.
I have been singing the Sting song 'Every breath you take, every move you make, I'll be watching you' on and off over a period of time. It just comes into my head. Now I think it is a good song for self observation, sharpening the senses, being more aware. Maybe with practice I can sing it with detachment.

Listening, really listening

So what does it take to really listen? I have probably been a poor listener all my life, but have only become aware of it in the last 20 years or so, and really started thinking about the qualities that make a good listener.
A friend did me a favour in my 30s. We were sitting in the kitchen having a rave with another friend. Both were from interstate so I didn't see them very often. Anyway this friend was talking about a topic, and I picked up on something she said within that topic that really interested me. So I asked a question on that aspect, but it wasn't pertinent to the whole topic, it was a sideline. She refused to answer my question, even though I asked it twice. This got me thinking. I felt snubbed but had the sense to explore why she might not have answered. It was not that she was a cruel person. After some consideration, I realised that I was following my own interests not hers, so I had sidelined the conversation into my own agenda.
And this is the key - if you are listening to someone, how hard is it not to start thinking your own thoughts? And then to follow through? I had this really badly in my 30s as I was in emotional and mental anguish, and was very fearful when I interacted with people. So was always thinking 'When they stop talking I will have to say something, but what?' This of course did not make me a good listener, amongst other things, and I was very lonely.
Thankfully things have improved but it has taken a long time and I am still training myself to be a good listener. So what is good listening? I think it is when you are detached enough from yourself and your own thoughts to be able to listen to someone else and what they are really saying. If you are an excellent listener you can hear what is behind the words as well, and maybe enlighten them with some observation they weren't aware of. That is doing them a real favour and enriching the interaction - quality time. Another advantage of this sort of communication is it becomes more spontaneous, even creative, and can lead anywhere, and somewhere that is of interest to you that you hadn't even dreamed of.
It is a goal that I haven't yet achieved, but am improving in daily as I become more mindful. Where have I failed most? In my own backyard. My son has made me aware since his teens or even earlier of what a crap listener I am. I often interrupt him or go off on my own thoughts. This was an anguish of my own childhood (as the youngest) and caused me huge pain in later years. So it is both believable and unbelievable that I am doing the same with my own child. I can only improve....and it is never too late.

Sounds of silence - listen up...down and all around!

Having never been a TV watcher, and not really a music listener, I have spent time sitting listening...to what? To my thoughts, to sounds of the neighbourhood, to 'white noise'. straining my ears to hear. Sometimes in the middle of the night in bed my listening has been driven by paranoia, when there was noone else in the house. But it is fun to 'listen out' - up, down and all around, as far as the ear can hear, to see if you increase the aptitude of your ears to pick up sounds further and further away. Like that, I have heard dogs talking to each other, probably suburbs away, birds singing at odd times like between 10pm and midnight, when you would think they would be asleep. I don't think I have 20/20 hearing as the sounds of young people talking are often a mumble to me. But I am sure the ear can be trained to hear better, just as the eyes can become accustomed to walking at night. So far I have only really mastered this one by negotiating the hallway without hurting myself, but out in the bush it is a whole different experience.
When meditating this means I can hear my heart beating, or sometimes something more (atoms bouncing around?). At any rate, I like it. Now that I have got hold of a deep ecology book, Bill Devall's Simple in means, rich in ends: practicing deep ecology (the practicing bit drew me to it), I am delighted to see a section on 'Silence' which states 'Silence is intuitively valued. Well-being of humans and other animals is partly determined by quiet.' And of course, 'quieting our chattering minds' (something I attempt to do often).
It is ironic that Rachel Carson's book is called Silent Spring. When I walk on the beach or in a park and see people with headsets on, I often think her prediction has already arrived in another form. (But would like to add that music can be a wonderful thing.)

Deep ecology, what is it?

Again to Wikipedia, deep ecology is 'a body of thought that places greater value on non-human species, ecosystems and processes in nature than established environmental and green movements' (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deep_ecology). Deep ecology supports 'the claim that, like humanity, the living environment as a whole has the same right to live and flourish.' It 'is concerned with the fundamental philosophical questions about the impacts of human life as one part of the ecosphere.' Sorry for all the quotes but that is as much as I know. However for the amount of times I have felt that we as a society do not value other life and put ourselves above other living things, this 'smacks true' to me and feels like a system I can support and believe in. It takes Animal farm (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animal_Farm) a step further in terms of egalitarianism and it is ironic that this story has animals as characters representing human society.
I hope to find a book about deep ecology that is readable. Years ago I tried to read one (forget the title and author) and could not get past the preface.

Most events are inexpressible

I love this quote from Rilke, whom I have never read:

'Things are not all so comprehensible and expressible as one would mostly have us believe; most events are inexpressible, taking place in a realm which no word has ever entered, and more inexpressible than all else are works of art, mysterious existences, the life of which, while ours passes away, endures.'

Given that I knew nothing about him I went to Wikipedia to find out more, and love this description of his work: 'His haunting images focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable in an age of disbelief, solitude, and profound anxiety.' (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainer_Maria_Rilke)

Anyway this quote probably expresses how I feel - that it is hard to speak of the deepest and truest things and sometimes it works once you get through the crap of what you don't mean. Mostly though words can't do it as thought and sense experience seems to form only the vaguest shapes in my mind.