Om

I went to a meditation class last night from 7pm to 8:30pm. Yep, that's right....an hour and a half long. Of meditation. Of sitting. And not thinking. About anything. At all. For 90 minutes. That's 5,400 seconds.

CRAP. What was I thinking?? I had known about the class for awhile, it's actually a free workshop sponsored by our park district. I finally made the time to get my butt over there and try to learn to stop all the constant chatter in my brain. I figured this goes along with my goal of becoming a better person and respecting myself and the planet etc, etc, etc.

I showed up at the community center with my red, white and blue beach towel and my purse. (Just in case, you know, there was a "hidden fee" of some kind. Nothing is free-I'm wise enough to know that now.) There were about six other people there, and I was the youngest. (And I'm old.) We sat in stiff metal chairs in a small half-circle while the instructor stood and spoke quietly to us about the proper way to meditate. He was a small, soft-spoken Indian man with half-closed eyes and a wide smile. He wore grey baggy sweatpants, a matching grey Hanes t-shirt and velcro sandals. (which he decided to take off in the middle of our first meditation practice.)

We were to fill our diaphragm as we inhaled, allowing the belly to distend outward. Then, on the exhale, we were to allow our breath to release as slowly as possible imagining a lit candle in front of us, unwavering. Breathing was to be done through the nose only as our instructor warned us because "...mouths are for eating" and if we breathed through our mouths, he'd have to feed us through our noses.
Ah. Interesting.

Eventually, we were told, we would get to the point where the special breathing would come naturally for us, and the thoughts which tried to interrupt our meditation would float away on their own.

I began our first practice meditation trying to get comfortable in the lousy chair. He wanted our feet planted firmly on the floor and spines straight. Well, either the chairs are too tall or I have shrunk. My feet barely touched the floor; only my toes were able to reach. So I scooched forward and pressed my heels down and lifted my spine "as if the crown of the head is floating up to the ceiling." Gently closing my eyes, I began to meditate. At first, inhaling was not too much of a problem. I filled my belly up with oxygen and concentrated on exhaling as slowly as possible, barely allowing air to flow from my nostrils. Slowly, over and over I did this, squeezing the breath out of my diaphragm as I pulled my belly button toward my spine. At some point, I became incredibly aware of the size of my belly as inhaled. I knew that anyone who was "cheating" and looking around would be visually assaulted with my voluminous, beer belly like abdomen. All I could think of was other people eyeing my distended tummy and secretly judging it's size. "Stop" I told myself mentally, "Just breeeaaathe......innnnhaaaaaaale....exxxxxhaaaaaaaaaaale.....slowly....slowly....."
At that point I was sweating as I tried to inhale as deeply as possible, yet keep my abdominal muscles pulled in so my pooch didn't stick out so much. I couldn't keep that up for long, so I did what any beginning meditator trying to become a better person would have done.
I peeked.

Guess what? Nobody was looking at me. No one cared! Everyone else had their eyes gently closed and wore an expression of peacefulness. I chastised myself mentally; once for worrying about what others thought about me and again for "cheating."

The next type of meditation we learned was similar to the first, only instead of exhaling quietly and slowly, we were to exhale and hum at the same time. Supposedly, humming while you breathe out forces you to slow down. At this time, our instructor invited us to sit or lie on a mat on the floor or find the most comfortable position. I was primed and ready to leave the metal chair behind as I sat on a rolled up mat against the wall. This time, I allowed my belly to roll on out on the exhale because it felt good to let it all hang...and nobody was looking! I began to hum softly when I heard our instructor begin his humming. I could feel a vibration in my throat and head, like a slight pressure. Inhaaaaaaaaaaaale.......hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.... and again, Inhaaaaaaaaaaaaale.......hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....
This was kind of nice. I didn't have random pictures flying into my mind, I was able to focus better with the humming. I wasn't worried that I had forgotten to buy milk for the kids for breakfast, or that I had didn't close the garage door earlier. My mind seemed....not quiet... but "occupied." As if it had to take care of this humming business and was not going to multi-task. I felt energized and tingly after the five minutes was up.

Our final meditation was difficult for me. It's called "Laughing Meditation." With this type, you inhale like before, but on the exhale you laugh and laugh and laugh. The instructor turned on a CD of this lady laughing so hard she sounded like she was going to pee. At one point, she was laughing in that way where you aren't making any sound, but you are still laughing and you can't breathe and tears are coming out of your eyes. I've laughed like that before and it's great. I LOVE to laugh. I love comedy clubs, appreciate good jokes, can double over during a good "embarrassing moment" story. Nevertheless, I need to tell you that it is quite difficult to MAKE yourself laugh. I really did try. I let out a few "Heh, heh, heh's" and then cleared my throat. "Ahhhhh, haaaaa, haaaaaa!!" Nope, nothing. It was hard for me to do this without having a reason to laugh. Quite a few of the other participants got into this and were having a grand 'ole time, chuckling, snorting and hootin' away. I have to admit, it was fun to watch them.

Even though the laughing meditation wasn't something I will probably try again, I am proud of myself for finding two ways to get better in tune with my "inner voice." I'm also going to make my friend go with me to the comedy club this weekend so I can laugh until I pee my pants.