“Discovering your voice is a lifelong journey.” Leonard Bernstein
A couple of mornings ago, I was doing my daily, 25 minute Zen sit. This has been part of my life for well over 30 years now. I have read endless instructions about how you should sit and what you should be doing when you sit. Beyond following some basic “rules” regarding posture, I can honestly say I have never given a shit about any proposed mental disciplines. To me, it is not a means to an end, some spiritual pot of gold waiting for me to get it right.
I have shared the above in order to make it abundantly clear that I am no expert, having found the road map to enlightenment, whatever the fuck that means. I think it is fabulous to sit quietly and bear witness to your very own lunacy. I don’t care who you are, when you first plop your ass down on the cushion, you are bombarded by a quilt of disparate thoughts. If you can manage to sit for a while and keep fidgeting to a minimum, you start running out of thought gas, slowing down the mind motor.
When the mind motor just starts idling, it becomes an unintelligible hum in the background. I have found that usually one particular thought will survive the never ending drag race of dumb deliberations. Like most every morning for me, my syncopated breathing rhythm dances to the front of my consciousness. Just like with music, the melody is free to go wherever it is taken, anchored by that cadence.
So, there I was a couple of mornings ago. Once the dust settled around my jumbled thoughts, only one survived the Battle of the Brain. I have been feeling challenged as a writer, knocking out stories pretty much on a weekly basis. We are inundated with butt loads of negative news, the most I can ever recall. These stories get passed around, along with people regurgitating them, megaphones of misery. I am no Pollyanna, but I have no interest in joining the chorus of crisis.
For all of us, there are always two stories dancing in and around our heads. What is going on around us is one. From the time we open our eyes each morning until we draw the shades at night, the world invades our world. At the same time, we all have this private, muted way of being. We have no control over the Big World, happening to each of us, every day. They meet on the cushion and it is very rare for them to be in harmony.
For me, while sitting, that outside voice experiences a decibel decline. It’s like it grows tired of continually beating the drums of distraction. Our inside world segues from random, reactive thoughts to the sound and feeling of the breath. On that morning, like most every morning, breathing stealthily took the wheel on my internal crossed-legged ride. The title for this next story seamlessly flowed across my interior sky, like those flowing banners, fluttering above packed beaches everywhere.
The in and out breath are like a quiet drum beat, creating a spiritual rhythm, accompanying our internal travel from one to the next. It is like a reminder, in the midst of all the tumult, for us to bring our lives back home to the basics. It reminded me of watching Leonard Bernstein, an incredibly brilliant and animated conductor. He embodied the music, continually moving, reflecting the myriad expressions of melody. The cadence of the music was the platform launching him into the stratospheres of sound.
The breath is like a seat belt in a race car. In the midst of the endless, lightening decision making, the belt provides a kind of stillness, keeping you safe. Personally, I can’t imagine conducting the NY Philharmonic or racing in the Indy 500, unqualified for either one. The baton and the checkered flag are the instrument and the reward, respectively.
Unlike the end of a race, our journey continues unabated. The baton gets passed from the rhythm of the breath to the waiting world. Hopefully, you have had a chance to refocus your thoughts, moving from a kind of chaos to a steadying hand on the wheel of life. Recently, I found a great quote. “We don’t see the world as it is. We see the world as we are.” While the scenery may be unchanged, the view is up to us.
This is as good a time as any, to make it clear that I am no expert in these matters. I have not discovered the secret way to lead a fulfilling life, in spite of what may be going on around me. Trying is much more important than succeeding or failing, because it is not a matter of winning or losing. We are not in charge of what physically happens, but how we respond to all these things is at least a bit within our control.
The first person I write these stories for is myself. Trying to prioritize my thoughts ahead of the page is very calming for me. So, if by chance, any of this seems like instructions to follow, it’s not my purpose. I wish I had great secrets to impart, but I definitely do not. A bunch of times, I’ve written stories to help calm me down, a creative catharsis of sorts.
When I get up from my sit, the first thing I do is to bow three times, the best part for me. No matter what has been going on, when I drop to my knees, letting my forehead kiss the ground, gratitude and humility flood my thoughts. I then turn away from the alter to engage the waiting world, ever so slightly altered, because of the few minutes I gave myself.
Finishing the above paragraph, I envisioned Leonard Bernstein emphatically raising and lowering his baton to signal the end of a symphonic classic. He then turns to the audience and bows, acknowledging their response and presence. Right after, he turns back to the orchestra, arms outstretched, paying tribute to their gifted contributions. We are, each of us, conductors of our own life symphony, playing all the instruments.
Trying to live a life, being truthful to ourselves, takes some work, with no guarantees. It is worth the effort, at least I think so.
Take a bow!
LISTEN TO IT HERE:
https://www.buzzsprout.com/admin/1292459/episodes/17371325-baton-of-the-breath