At the limits of meditation

I had quite an evil end to last week. High winds meant waves on the canal, much being banged about, bridges closed, and our not being able to move. Wind also contributed to a shortage of power supply, that trapped our washing in a washing machine. On top of that, I was diseased and running a temperature. I paused to feel sorry for myself on facebook, and someone pointed out that all those meditation skills must be coming in handy. They weren’t.

There are times and places where I find meditation doesn’t help much. Not least, because meditation requires mental focus. There’s nothing like a headache, or for that matter a fever, for making it tricky to manage any kind of mental discipline. Even the most basic meditations call for some kind of concentration skills.

Often it’s when we are most in trouble that we could really do with the benefits of a quiet mind. In sickness, in pain, in crisis, it does help not to be screaming and flailing. But when you are screaming and flailing, the idea of meditation seldom even occurs.

I’ve been meditating every day for as long as I’ve known how (lots of years) – usually at the beginning and the end of the day, often for short spells along the way as well. I found in my teens that in normal circumstances I drop into meditative and trance states easily. It’s always come naturally to me in quiet situations. In the throes of a panic attack, it doesn’t come naturally at all. I have noticed that, with practice, I am better able to keep control of myself, to rein in panic that bit sooner, to breathe my way through intense pain, and the such. The habit of meditation that comes from regular practice makes it easier to do it in self defence, when times are hard. Easier, but not actually easy. Give me another twenty years and maybe I’ll have it licked.

I remember Cat Treadwell saying on her blog recently (see list of bloggers on the right) that many people don’t want to learn Druidry in depth, they want quick fix magic that doesn’t take much time. Most things worth having, take time. They take work. Sure, I could teach a person the basics of meditation in an afternoon. The book I wrote is loaded with enough exercises to keep someone busy for a long time. But they aren’t a quick fix. Doing an exercise once is interesting. Do it three times and you will learn a lot more. Do it every day for a month and you may start to change. Do it for twenty years and you might well be able to hold your calm in face of any disaster.

Our consumerist culture, all have now, pay later, with its emphasis on faster service, quicker solutions, newer, shiner things, teaches us impatience. The adverts many people see every day are telling them to demand faster, and that faster is better. You should have your perfect solution on your plate in three seconds time, or you must feel let down. The only instant solution to pain, or fear, is a sudden and very intensive hit of drugs, legal or otherwise. That’s not a solution, any more than putting your hands over your ears and chanting ‘I’m not listening’ is a solution. Real solutions take time. It’s ok not to be able to fix everything right now. It’s ok to have to work at it. Inner calm does not come in a bottle, for immediate effect.

So no, faced with high winds, hostage laundry and a virus that seemed to be jangling each of my cells individually, I did not meditate. I’m not that good yet. I went to bed, and tried to sleep it off, which worked.