Dani\u00eblle, one of the online participants in our meditation meetings on Monday evenings, recently told me that she sometimes looks up during the silence meditation and sees me sitting motionlessly every time. She really can't do that \u2013 how do I manage it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Good question. I took that with me to ponder. And that's how this blog came about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don't do it and I can't do it. That's what immediately comes to mind. I can still see myself sitting during my first retreat with my beloved teacher, Maarten Houtman[1]<\/a> , sighing and groaning because I was expected to sit still for 25 minutes. The restlessness roared through me and I felt itchy everywhere. What has changed over the years?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first thing is that my understanding of clear observation has deepened over time. Gradually, I came to experience and understand that you can only observe clearly when you are still. Learning to be still begins with quieting your body. Just look at people observing animals. In a stilled body, your thoughts and emotions can be observed by you[2]<\/a> , and in that observation, they can settle down and recover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The second thing is practice: practice, practice, practice. This means: play with it, enjoy it like a child. Not having to sit still, but only doing it when, nourished by that increasingly deeper insight, you enjoy walking this new path. If that is no longer the case, then you stop, to begin again at another moment with fresh courage or fresh reluctance\u2014it doesn't matter, as long as you do it\u2014over and over again. Preferably at regular times, for example, 5 minutes in the morning and 5 minutes in the evening, so that becoming still becomes a habit and ultimately a trait. It really is possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just do it. Sit still. Don't move. And observe. There's an itch. I feel it. And I observe that my hand has the urge to move and scratch. I notice the thought that the itch needs to go away. I observe the emotion that itchiness is uncomfortable and causes unrest. I feel that unrest in my silent body. And I keep sitting still and do nothing. Not because I force myself to do so. No, because I find it exciting to learn to observe. What happens if I do nothing? What happens to that itch? Does it spread, does it fade away, does it become more intense and then less? Can I endure this without forcing anything? And if not, well, then I let my fingers scratch for a moment, and I start again cheerfully: how is it now? Does it feel better now, or has it gotten worse? Interesting, isn't it? Or is my mind wondering if I have nothing better to do than to observe an itch? And can I observe that thought? Or do I believe that thought and go along with it? Then I observe that again and return my attention to my stilled body. Where I notice that the itch has miraculously disappeared...<\/p>\n\n\n\n The itch in my body, the waves in my life, the joy and the sorrow, the fear and the relaxation, the dark and the golden moments, birth and death, the crying, the laughter\u2014everything comes and goes. Can I observe that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have learned that observing means I can endure, that I can surrender to what is. The despair that can sometimes completely consume my personality is then embraced by the loving arms of my observing, wise heart, which is without any judgment. There, I can rest, while this wave, too, passes by.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That's how I learned to sit motionless. I don't do it and I can't do it. It just IS.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Thoughts and feelings<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n
come and go like clouds in the sky -<\/em>
my stilled body is my anchor.[3<\/strong><\/a><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n