Going Vertical

My mother repeats herself, a lot. Wouldn't you, if you could not remember things from one second to the next? In that sense, her behavior is totally normal. The problem lies in the way I receive her words. This morning, talking with her, and hearing her rave once more about "I have eaten very healthy my whole life, that's what matters. Do you hear me? You would do well, to do the same." I found boredom springing up in the heart. Of course, I knew what to respond. "Totally, maman, I have learned so much from you, and I am very careful, just like you. Not eating too much, and just the right thing . . ."

Inside, boredom beggs to be examined though. What is it in the mind that wants to be entertained, with a constantly changing menu of thoughts? After all, what's wrong with hearing the same words, or a slight variation of them, over and over? I remembered Joseph Goldstein's words:

To realize that boredom does not come from the object of our attention but rather from the quality of our attention is truly a transforming insight ~ 'Insight Meditation'

, and also Charlotte Selver's insistence that each moment be experienced as a new moment, always.

Once more, my mother challenges me to practice, even deeper, down to each second. This time, I am to abandon the self-made idea of horizontal time, joining in with Olivia Ames Hoblitzelle:

After that landmark morning at the diagnostic clinic, I also recognized that we were living with another dimension of time. Something in our midst felt different; we lived with a heightened awareness of what the Greeks called kairos, or vertical time, entirely different from chronos time, which is linear and familiar. In that verticality, there was a sense of timelessness, sad and sweet ~ 'The Majesty of Your Loving'

Of course, the awareness of horizontal time is essential to our day to day functioning. This is why my mother can no longer live alone, and needs to rely on others to organize her life. Vertical time is of a different order, and just as important. It represents the door to being fully alive to the present moment, with all our senses. 

Unpacking the Boredom

Sitting with myself, not quite knowing what to expect, as usual. I am starting in a good place, lots of love, and tranquillity. Yesterday's poems still very much present. Not the words, but the general movement from the heart, opening. Breath moving in and out, at ease. The vast expanse feels almost too big. Fear comes in, of getting lost in unfamiliar land. Thoughts pass and do not insist, leaving room for feelings. Fear, now joined by boredom. Boredom soon taking over, and threatening my concentration. To not get swept by it, instead noticing my dislike of the boredom. Breathing into it, exploring its boundaries. Thought of Gil's words during my interview with him, 'to unpack the boredom' . . . Tenderness, I need to be tender, and not tense up. Boredom becomes frustration. Big time. Another difficult guest in my house. Breathing, loving, at least trying to be. The anger's got a sad flavor to it, very subtle. Wishing it would go away. Realizing I am to follow Thich Nhat Hanh's practice. Breathing, loving, at least trying to be. It's hard. I get really tempted to open my eyes, and check, how much more time? Maybe the timer's not working this morning? No, to stay strong, and open for the moment. Anger still there, knot in my throat signaling definite sadness. Bell ring.

Drama Queen in Waiting

Lots of boredom moments today, captured as I was walking around the house, also during swim practice, and just now, while sitting. I had never given much thought to boredom, until I got into meditation.

Boredom is a dangerous state. So pernicious. Not juicy enough like anger, or greed, or lust, to hold my attention and keep me engaged for long. Boredom is, well, blah, and that says it all doesn't it? Stored in my brain, are some useful Buddhist teachings, to direct me in the right direction. I am to pay more attention to the moment, that's what I was told. There is the obvious breath, to be sure, and the noises outside. I try. I am almost grateful for the dogs barking at the construction men next door. How desperate is that? Judging. Breath, followed by a few more. I am doing well. Pride. Then boredom again, even stronger this time, and spelling doubt in my mind about the worthiness of sitting. Wishes for the bell soon. Boredom. I don't like it. Judging. Back to the breath. The bell's still not ringing. I blank out into another world, filled with excitement. Make it back, I don't know how, to the reality of me sitting. Feeling guilty for having been gone so long. Self-loathing. Big sigh. Boredom. Oh! no . . . I really don't like this.

I'm a drama queen in waiting. Half of the time, I am bored, waiting, hoping for some excitement. And when that fails to materialize, my brain is always there, ready to kick in high gear, and fire some thoughts, making up some drama, to take me out.

To realize that boredom does not come from the object of our attention but rather from the quality of our attention is truly a transforming insight - Joseph Goldstein (from Thank You, Boredom)