Outwitting Monkey Mind

Today's wind tosses branches and treetops every which-a-way. A quick glance out an upper window shows clouds crusing overhead with amazing speed. Now the sky is swept clear and the sun is shining. Ahh. It's 30 degrees outside which feels like a huge warm-up after the past few overcast days with temps in the 20s and a distinct chill in the air.

Today I felt soooo tired even though I slept plenty last night. My solution: Engage in my TCC practice with the hope that I'll Activate-Balance-and-Circulate Chi (the ABCs) to the point where I'll feel more energized. (Yes, it did indeed help.)

Last week my two fall TCC classes concluded but today, one week later, I'm distinctly aware of the loneliness of my practice when it's entirely, absolutely, unequivocally up to me. I clearly missed my students as I went through my TCC practice since I've grown accustomed to a Thursday morning practice with six to twelve participants.

What to do? Practice anyway. Put Justin Stone's TCC DVD in the player and join with four of the Albuquerque, NM teachers in their practice or imagine my circle of students as I move or place my intention on sending this circulated Chi energy out into the Universe or ...?

So much of the ability to follow through on practice time is based on a willingness to deal with Monkey Mind. And since Monkey Mind is nimble and well-practiced in convincing us to take the easy way out we must hone our creativity, commitment, and fortitude. So what strategies work for you to maintain a regular T'ai Chi Chih practice in your life? (I'd venture a guess that you're more creative in your approaches than you give yourself credit for.)

Noisy Brain Syndrome

I still talk in my sleep.
I still dream.
How can there be perfect stillness
When my brain's so noisy?

     We carry on a constant dialogue within ourselves. This is the origin of our problems.
     The very word dialogue means talking between two sides. We could not have an inner dialogue unless there was a split in our minds. We all have two sides; as long as they are not united, we cannot attain the wholenss that spirituality requires.
     Even with years of self-cultivation, it is not easy to tame the wild mind. One might appear to have attained perfect control in all waking situations, only to find endless turbulence during meditation and sleep.
     ... rather than shutting away the unpleasant or unruly aspects of ourselves, we must take them all out and examine them....
     From: 365 Tao by Deng Ming-Dao, "Dialogue," p. 243

Today's reading from 365 Tao is a reminder that there is always work to do in managing Monkey Mind. I often revisit this fact during my daily T'ai Chi Chih practices. I feel relaxed, calm, at peace ... and then I notice that my mind is leaping from one topic to another as it mimics a monkey swinging from tree to tree.

Today--case in point--I dedicated my TCC practice to my mother since August 31 is her birthday (she died over five years ago). I wanted to honor Mother for the role she played in my life, the ways in which she shaped me, the habits and behaviors of hers that live on in me, and more. Soon enough my mind was off on another adventure stalking the wild pendulum (per Itzhak Bentov's book of the same title).

Bentov was a scientist, mystic, author, and accomplished meditator who believed that vibration permeates all things and that our brains receive and amplify thoughts rather than being the source of thought. So, as many regular TCC practitioners have discovered, our daily TCC practice offers us the chance to experience the vibration that permeates all things (i.e., Chi).

If the split in our minds is a mirror of the yin/yang energy that continually seeks to find balance and harmony, does it also follow that the thoughts we receive (and amplify) offer us the opportunity to change and grow and accomplish a greater good?

Wind Blown

Summer is back with a passion ... by late morning it was 90 degrees, then it settled down to 85 for much of the afternoon. The cat and dog abandoned Frances on her walk to the mailbox and chose, instead, to lie on the cement front step and soak in its coolness.

Today's wind was torrential. Not surprising after the Twin Cities had heavy winds yesterday and Wadena (in central Minnesota) was hit with a highly destructive tornado last night. I practiced half of the TCC form outside on the deck in the midst of the wind. Although we're protected by our close-in forest, I found myself longing for a quieter practice spot and eventually moved inside to complete the form.

I know that wind is hard on my psyche. If I find myself blown about for more than a day or two, I quickly feel out of sorts, ill at ease, off kilter. I wonder, too, whether wind affects the Chi as I found it difficult to feel the energy flow while I practiced in the midst of gusts and surges of loud, uprooting air flow.

I'm currently reading The Journal Keeper: A Memoir by Phyllis Theroux. She writes about the intense quietness that characterizes Ashland, VA, the town where she lives. Theroux notes:

Sometimes it is so quiet here in Ashland that I wonder how we don't die of it. There is nothing to remind you from the outside that you are here. I understand why it is so hard to get people to visit. They know what they will find, a quietness so deep and steady it creates a kind of nervousness.... One must have a very active imagination to withstand it.

Interesting. I, on the other hand, feel nervous when I'm bombarded with overactivity (high winds, large numbers of tourists during the summer months, bumper-to-bumper traffic, multiple projects, etc.) I like nothing better than to breathe in the quiet, sleep in it, walk in it, meditate in it, live in it.

This is why I love to teach TCC. It is one of the few social activities I engage in that can be done in a roomful of people who are totally silent. The quietness feel nourishing, replenishing, restorative.

And ... while you're doing TCC you can't multitask (per my statement in yesterday's blog); you have to be in the present moment and in the present movement to fully experience the Chi and TCC's subtle levels of relaxation. As Peter Bregman pointed out in his blog about multitasking: Research shows that multitasking isn't just inefficient, it's stressful.

When we engage in TCC practice, we are bucking the cultural trend toward multitasking and returning ourselves to a kinder, gentler way of life that I'll call monotasking or solotasking. Here we can literally take one step at a time, eyes straight ahead, circles flowing softly and continuously. Meanwhile we still have Monkey Mind to contend with which is more than enough multitasking for one 30-40 minute practice.

These Magic Moments

Trees peopled the landscape. Their dark presence--drawn into brief silhouette by the incandescence of emerging sun--was witness to my practice.

The sunrise was lovely. I breathed it in ... deep, slow breaths. For me, these magical minutes of sun emerging over horizon to light earth and sky are a blessing.

I began practice by standing quietly in Resting Position; feeling my rootedness to the earth, imagining my connection to the sky. Soon I felt energy in my palms, a slight vibration and feeling of fullness, a light trembling of fingers.

Practice time passed quickly. One difference today. Frances rose with me this morning. (I'm typically the solo early riser.) I became aware of her presence through the whirr of the coffee grinder, the clatter of a pan on the stove, the swish of rice pouring into metal.

Surprisingly, I was not distracted from my practice by these sounds but pulled deeper into it. It's easier for me to focus my attention on the present when I hear outside noises and distractions. Inner noises--Monkey Mind again?!?--are a different story....

Day Two: Distraction

Today is another quiet day in the woods. Despite the calm--no breeze--I felt uneasy during my morning t'ai chi chih (TCC) practice. Students' words echoed through my mind. I remembered a conversation I had about TCC post-Thanksgiving dinner. I worried about what to write in today's blog. In other words, Monkey Mind was up and running....

Our dog, Namaste, barked incessantly throughout my half-hour practice. Deer were nearby, I know, although they remained out of sight. A woodpecker pounded the hanging suet, a flush of bluejays raided the ground below the birdfeeder, and several nuthatches hunted seed.

Still, though I felt the energy in my palms and I slowed into the movements, I was not totally present in my practice. Instead of "be here now," I anticipated the too-soon-future when my blog awaited an entry.

Well, that's a bit of insight into my personality ... I am an anxious person. Of course, t'ai chi chih moving meditation brings peace and tranquility into my life. But that, too, can be fleeting. Often when I'm in the midst of a practice I wonder, "Why can't I live my life this way? Calm. Rooted in the wisdom and love at the core of my being." All too quickly the peace and comfort I've gained while performing the TCC movements is replaced by Life with a capital "L."

I believe, though, that the more regularly I practice, the more benefits I receive. I told Michael, our waiter at the Village Inn in Cornucopia, yesterday--where Frances and I went for a Thanksgiving meal--that I teach t'ai chi chih moving meditation in Corny.

"Really?" he responded, "Oh, that's why you seem so calm."

My partner laughed at his comment. The laughter was immediate and sure. Yes, she lives with me every day, year after year, and she is witness to my ups and downs. She sees how the raucous, rolling waves of my emotions sometimes turn me into--her words--a drama queen.

I'm better than I used to be. That's what I tell my students. And I know it's true. Earlier in my life I was often swamped or thrown overboard by the strength and ferocity of my anger, grief, and shame. Now I know that, mostly, I can stay afloat and keep my bearings. I seldom drown in the deep lake of my emotions anymore.

Years ago at a t'ai chi chih teachers' training the trainer sat quietly with his legs bouncing up and down. He was sitting as calmly as he could in the circle of certified teachers and teachers-to-be even as his body indicated that it was difficult; he was ready to get up and move, forgo the discussion, just go-go-go. "You think this is bad," he said to the group, "You should have seen me before I started practicing t'ai chi chih moving meditation."

I agree. T'ai chi chih practice doesn't turn us into perfect people. Perhaps more than anything t'ai chi chih moving meditation helps us to accept ourselves exactly as we are. For we are--all of us--imperfectly perfect human beings. And what greater gift can we offer ourselves than unconditional love and acceptance?

I know that tomorrow's blog will be easier. The day after that easier yet. Today I launched my boat into wide open waters. In the days that follow I'll gain greater comfort and experience as I balance myself between these two loves of mine: t'ai chi chih moving meditation and writing. If you'd like, I invite you to join me on my deep sea adventure....