New bang flavor radical skedaddle4/7/2023 Settle yourself in a favorite chair or sofa, dear reader. So how is it that I came not only to comprehend but to experience what I call “the power of meow”? You may even see a teensy-weensy bit of yourself in me-how lovely for you! The reason I share it is because I feel it may be one you can relate to. What I’m talking about here is the story of how I came to meditation. In sharing my story with you, I am doing so not because I think it’s very special-I am distinctly special, of course that matter is beyond dispute. Most of us, however, have meditation thrust upon us. Some event, some trigger, propels you in a direction you may have been contemplating, but to which you were never fully committed. And I have come to discover that, for most meditators, the same is true. I, dear reader, have until recently considered myself one of them. The world is full of meditators who have lapsed, dabbled, or read a dozen books on the subject but don’t regularly meditate. There seemed to be plenty of ideal occasions to restart my meditation practice. Or perhaps during the dark winter months when most beings feel a natural inclination to withdraw from the world, to go inward. That would be a good time to make a concerted effort. Maybe next year, when the Namgyal monks went on retreat. In my own case, unfortunately, a being who thinks rather too much.įor exactly this reason I had come around to believing that even though meditation is useful, transformational, a practice to which I should definitely apply myself, it wasn’t something I was going to do-at least not just yet. What are these, if not the involuntary accompaniment to the imagined drama playing out in her mind? Cats may indeed be capable of great mindfulness. Inevitably you will notice a twitching of limbs, a quivering of the jaw, sometimes perhaps a snuffling noise or a meow. If you ever doubted that your feline companion has her own inner life, just watch what happens when she falls asleep and loses conscious control of her physical being. But how many of your own thoughts are visible? And if they were, would you have any friends left, pray tell?! There is a general belief that we cats are mindful creatures, who constantly “live in the moment.” While it’s true that we can focus our minds with great intensity, especially when our hunting instincts are aroused, it is equally true that we spend much of our time thinking. Or, somehow, both of those subjects mixed up at the same time. But no sooner have I settled my mind on the sensation of my breath than I find myself thinking about Mrs. I may be a global celebrity whose well-being is a subject of frequent inquiry by luminaries as diverse as the occupants of the Oval Office, Buckingham Palace, and the more rarefied enclaves of the Hollywood Hills. I may be gorgeous beyond words, with my mesmerizing blue eyes, charcoal face, and sumptuous cream coat. Living with the Dalai Lama, surrounded by monks at Namgyal Monastery, and constantly encountering the most revered meditation masters in Tibetan Buddhism, one would assume that among my many admirable qualities I am an accomplished meditator. A revelation so embarrassing I’d much rather not be making it. I am ashamed to have to begin this book with a confession.
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