In Search of Awe

In Search of Awe

This month I went in search of awe.  For me, awe opens a mental and emotional door to the state of mind, or mindlessness, I try to get to when I meditate.  Since I was in Paris, there was no shortage of world famous,  awe inspiring places to choose from, both sacred and secular.  The Louvre, Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle, the Musee D’Orsay, even Chartres Cathedral a short train ride away.
And what did I find?  I found that I don’t have the focus to find awe among massive entry lines, security checks and crowds that feel and behave more like a train station at rush hour than a museum.  That was the Louvre for me, even early on a weekday morning in January, and I felt an immediate urge to leave.
Next up, Notre Dame.  It felt important to see it again, and the work that has been done was remarkable.  The shoulder to shoulder crowd taking selfies and other photos while mass was going on seemed to agree.  Am I glad I went?  Yes.  Was it impressive?  Yes.  But and awesome experience, in that portal-opening, time disappearing kind of way?  No, not for me.
Sainte-Chapelle has always been one of my favorites – you see it pictured here.  The long wait out in the cold,  heavily armed guards and intense security check notwithstanding, I felt a glimmer.  Maybe it was the smaller crowd – the narrow, winding staircase to the second floor does moderate the traffic.  There was a bit of the hush of the sacred that was missing for me in the first two stops.
And then things started looking up.
Chartres Cathedral was freezing cold and almost empty the day we visited.  Though it was physically uncomfortable, without the lines and the guns and the crowds it was much more, well, awesome.  My breath slowed, my mind quieted.
So did that mean that awe required the absence of other people?
Happily, not.  Or at least not for me.  The Musee D’Orsay was not without lines, not without security, not without crowds, but something about the very design of the place seemed to inspire better behavior, more attention to the moment, and just more space to have a personal experience.
Where is the lesson?  Awe will find you, don’t give up the search.
Meditation should be easier here

Meditation should be easier here

This is the Duomo in Milan, Italy.  Like so many world-renowned landmarks, it is  awesome in detail and in scale.
Whether you aspire to  prayer, contemplation, or meditation and whatever your spiritual tradition, spaces like this seem like they should be ideal places to get still.
But we humans can always find distraction more easily than stillness, can’t we? Even if you were there all alone, the visual senses are overwhelmed.  But of course, you are never there alone, there are cameras clicking, there are whispered conversations and explanations in so many languages that you can’t understand but can’t entirely ignore either.
And yet, I always try to take a moment, or two, or five or ten to get quiet in places like this full of history and human artistry.  Here’s what I found out this time – it’s way easier to make this work in November than in high-season summer.  I mean, spiritual discipline can only take you so far.
A Meditation Reset

A Meditation Reset

I’ve been meditating for years, but like a lot of things we do routinely I think I’ve gotten a little sloppy with it lately.  So, I’m hitting the reset button, trying to put a little more intention behind the mindfulness part of mindful meditation.
The idea that the mind will ever be entirely quiet when we meditate, or that if we don’t achieve that we have somehow failed, keeps a lot of us from trying.  The mind will always chatter; my to-do list, my dreams, my fears, always show up when I sit down.  The goal isn’t to make the thoughts never arise, it’s to avoid following them, and then following the next one, and the next,  until you aren’t where you are anymore.  That’s the reset that needs to happen for me, exercising the gentle discipline of bringing myself back to the moment, to the breath.
Quieter outside than inside

Quieter outside than inside

What could this picture possibly have to do with meditation, mediocre or otherwise?
Well, this is the view I have from my little nest, the comfy chair big enough that I can sink in to it with my legs folded up and meditation every morning, usually as the sun is just coming up.
And it’s the view I usually don’t see, because I meditate with my eyes closed, so I can concentrate better.  At least that’s the theory.
Lately, though, I’m experimenting with eyes wide open.  Closed, I don’t have the visual input to deal with and to distract, but it leaves my thoughts free to wander. Open, I’m picking a point is space to pull my focus back – the question is, with a view like this, which point?
And by the way, have you ever notice that if you stare at one thing for a long time, the edges just kind of dissolve, like maybe you really can see the atoms move around. Or do I need my eyes checked?
Feeding Your Demons

Feeding Your Demons

My personal meditation practice took an interesting turn when I came across this book recently.  It talks about a modern interpretation of an ancient Tibetan practice called Chöd.
I’m pretty sure we have all had thoughts, feelings, or even physical pain that we just want to get rid of, and there are practices that focus on “clearing” them out – removing them.  There are examples I can think of in Christian prayer as well as many forms of healing work.
Chöd takes a different approach.  Instead of asking or seeking to be rid of these things, we should consider why they are there, what they want, and then give it to them.  The idea is then that, once satiated, they will abate and perhaps even transform into an energy that can be helpful and healing.
It’s a very specific and detailed practice, and I can’t claim that I’ve applied much rigor to my experiments, but I have found it helpful and effective.  Having said that, it’s a little bit of a trust fall to honor or almost befriend the thing that is causing you pain.  I was intrigued, though, by the serendipity of the fact that, having never heard anyone mention it before, I almost immediately learned that someone I know well is so interested in it that she is going to Tsultrim Allione’s center in Colorado for a Chöd retreat.
It reminds me of the Internal Family Systems approach, and similar approaches, to talk therapy.  My very, very simplistic interpretation being that the more you try to deny or get rid of something that is trying to get your attention, the more it will fight to survive.