I’ve meditated for five minutes a day, every day, for a week. That’s a total of thirty-five minutes of mindful breathing. Woohoo!
Maybe I should be expressing my pride in this accomplishment in a more restrained fashion, one more befitting the quiet, contemplative nature of the process. But if I’ve learned anything from dipping my toe in the waters of mindfulness, it’s that there is no right or wrong way to go about it.
On some days I felt jumpy and impatient. My mind wanted to review an earlier conversation or plan tomorrow’s dinner instead of attending to my inhalations and exhalations. On other days I felt tired and heavy-lidded. I’d like to say I also had Goldilocks days when it felt “just right,” but that didn’t happen.
Research has shown that regular meditation practice leads to changes in the brain structures associated with self-control, attention, and self-awareness. I’m all for giving my concentration and willpower a boost, so I plan to keep meditating, adding a few minutes to each practice every week, and hope that over time, I’ll improve my mindfulness skills. I’m going to have to wait before I decide whether it’s beneficial for me.
viagra I’m still meditating five minutes a day. I can’t say I’ve reached a state of enlightenment yet, or even of greater calm, but I have made a few more observations.
1) On the third day, a funny thing happened on the way to meditating. I realized I was looking forward to it! Rather than feeling irritated about having to fit it in, I was actually pleased for the brief respite in the middle of my hectic day.
2) Self-evaluative thoughts still creep in. On a day when sitting down to concentrate on my breath seemed like more of an obligation than a relaxing break, I stole a peek at my watch to see how much longer I had to go. I immediately thought, “You blew it! You’re not supposed to look at your watch.”
3) I notice sensations more acutely. Concentrating too hard on breathing made me feel short of breath. An urge to scratch a distracting itch over my right eyebrow faded after I resisted giving into it for ten or twenty seconds; then the itch moved to my right eyelid.
4) It’s easier to concentrate when there are fewer external distractions—say, a husband eating dessert in the next room. My heightened sensory awareness amplified the clink of his spoon against the bowl to deafening decibels. And why haven’t I ever noticed how loudly he slurps his ice cream?
I’ll be wrapping up my introductory week of meditation in my next post.
I’ve been meaning to start meditating regularly, but somehow I never get around to it. Even though I’ve kept up with the research on meditation’s health benefits, attended workshops on mindfulness-based cognitive therapy, and downloaded Buddhist prayer chime apps on my phone, I keep putting off making meditation a regular part of my day.
If I want to be truly credible when I recommend meditation to my patients, I really need to get off—or, rather, on—my butt and practice it myself.
My armchair quarterbacking reminds me of all the hours spent observing my son while he was learning to play the trumpet before he could drive himself to his weekly lessons. I absorbed his teachers’ suggestions about embouchure and breath control so thoroughly that I almost believed I could pick up a horn and perform a passable rendition of The Hummel without ever having played a note of my own.
When he got stuck on difficult passages during practice, I’d offer helpful technical advice. My tips about double and triple tonguing were always met with some verbal or nonverbal variant of “Shut up, Mom.” ( The maternal wisdom I impart now that he’s in college elicits the same reaction. But that’s another story.)
In the last week or so, as I’ve been working up to making a public declaration of my intention to cultivate mindfulness through meditation, I’ve at least become more mindful of the mental obstacles I put in my path. Here are a few of them.
I’ve decided to start anyway. Yes, I am really busy and it is beautiful out and I am really tired and I do have to work on my taxes and it is the middle of the week. And I might not stick with it. But I’m going to give it a go—once a day at first and only for five minutes, just to see if I can do it. I plan to write about my observations along the way.
I’m starting today. Quieting my mind will take some extra effort because my son is coming home this afternoon and bringing the four other members of his trumpet ensemble with him. They’ll be rehearsing in our house for their upcoming performance at the National Trumpet Competition.
I hope being more mindful will help me resist the urge to comment on their intonation.