“Ten wthousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
A cool breeze in summer, snow in winter—
If your mind is not clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life. (ancient Chinese poem)
This morning we rode about twenty kilometers up the Queen K Highway in such a fierce cross-wind that at times I feared being blown into the traffic lane. And not for the first time. This has been a particularly windy season. Today it was all I could do to stay upright against the buffeting gusts, and when we stopped for a breather I immediately felt the effects of holding tension in my shoulders and neck. Of course the return ride was a breeze (pardon the pun) but, despite it still being early in the day, I now register my body’s struggle to restore equilibrium after being tossed around by the wind.
It occurs to me that my morning is an apt metaphor for those times when my mind is being tossed to and fro by the shifting circumstances of my life. Without any clear provocation, I sometimes find myself feeling irritable, negative or overwhelmed. At times like these it takes a concerted effort to restore my equanimity. I am reminded of the Buddha’s meditation vigil under the Bodhi tree, where, assaulted by the psychic forces of the demon Mara, he finally liberated himself from the triple threats of attachment, aversion and indifference. In sum, from suffering and the causes thereof. Not that I am anywhere near enlightened. But I do know that, like the seasons, all things pass, and that what I’m feeling on any given day or week, will pass just as inevitably as spring passes to summer.
That said, there are some things I have learned in my spiritual search that have helped see me through such times of mental or emotional disturbance. The first step, always, is to express my thoughts and feelings in my journal. Download them, literally, at an arm’s-length distance. I find this gives me more detachment, and acknowledges my state of mind without needing someone else to witness, advise, console, fix, or, worst case scenario, bear the brunt of it. Otherwise known as scape-goating. Though peace of mind might not be restored immediately, this process has the effect of “parking” problems while I resume other commitments and activities, buy time to calm my nerves, gather more information, and finally, revisit my journal — and the issues within it — from a fresh perspective.
Journaling might not come naturally to you, nor articulating your feelings in writing, especially if emotionally agitated, but there are some approaches that can assist with this. One such practice is simple meditative breathwork. Focusing on balancing the breath has a dual benefit: it evens out one’s jagged emotional energy, and calls for concentration that takes away from whatever is winding up the mind. An easily accessible technique, and one I still use all the time, is called 4-4 breathing. In a seated position, spine erect and or supported, eyes closed, gently draw in the breath to a comfortable count of four, and exhale to the same count of four. As I sit, breathing evenly, I draw in my senses the way the tortoise draws in its limbs. Sink to a place below the surface waves of my busy day. Use my imagination to create an inner sanctuary that invokes a sense of peace, harmony and ease of well-being.
You may also use your imagination to breathe in light, representing the highest and best qualities that you would offer yourself or anyone else. These may be the antidote to what you are currently feeling, for example, if you’re feeling angry you might visualize a calm pond. If sad, you might invoke a memory of happier times. The quality that I called up today was equanimity, because I needed a break from all the chatter in my head. Chatter that I’ve mentioned in recent blogs; concerns about our imminent return to Canada, about saying farewell to friends with whom, for the past half year, I’ve shared this strange COVID hiatus. Tamping down a sense of urgency to do everything I set out to do six or so months ago, (and no — I didn’t peel off those COVID pounds as I’d intended) or bone up on my French, or master the ukulele, or get to eat even one of the five white pineapples that are very slowly maturing along the back edge of our property. But I’ve harvested about fifty bananas (Jim actually cut down the tree), and a small but steady supply of lemons, limes and mandarins. I’ve continued to compost; an herb garden looms in the near future. I’ve continued with my blogging; eighteen down and counting. I’ve facilitated study groups on the yoga of healing, and the power of speech — going online soon to a computer near you; and I’ve tried my best to tread a middle way through all the unprecedented shifts and changes that blew through my life in 2020, and in the few months since then.
Perhaps the wind that’s been hounding me all week is symbolically blowing the clouds of unnecessary clutter from my mind, so I can truthfully say: this is the best season of my life.
Well, it would be, if I could just get those pineapples to ripen tout de suite. Aka immediately… (see, I did brush up on SOME French). À la semaine prochaine…