Techno Meditation at the Y

Spinning, I never cease to discover new ways of taking care of mind and body together. This time, rather than wishing away the loud music, I switched to making it the object of my sole attention. Being - or at least trying to be - one with the music, eyes closed, I got transported for a moment, to another place, another time. Bodh Gaya, and the roaring chant of monks by the Bodhi Tree. 

Techno, chanting, same thing almost . . . An object of attention too compelling to be ignored. Hearing  taking over and drowning all the other senses, thinking included. Purifying the mind, one beat at a time.

Until  irruption of strong vedana from soothing music at the end of the class. Wishing for those moments to last. Knowing better than to cling too hard. 

Spinning With the Four Elements

During the retreat, I got to practice mindfulness of the four elements, as explained in the Four Foundations of Mindfulness Sutta:

[One] contemplates this very body — however it stands, however it is disposed — in terms of properties: 'In this body there is the earth [solid] property, the liquid property, the fire [hot and cold] property, and the wind property.'

Walking the Covered Bridge trail near Cloud Mountain, I noticed the earth against my feet, and I saw the tall trees, and the big rocks, standing still, weighed down with seemingly complete solidity. There was also the gently cool breeze taking turn with the hot sun against my cheeks, and the sight of leaves dancing with the wind. And in the morning, the dew from the blades of grass on the path, that made my feet wet, just a little. 

The four elements. One can decide on just one, and keep one's awareness on that one only. Or, one can  simply notice whichever is most prominent at any moment. 

This morning, back to my daily exercise routine at the Y, I played again with the four elements. Sensing the solidity of the bike handles under my hands, and the pedals supporting my feet. Feeling the rising heat from body working hard, and once in a while the cool air from the nearby fan. Breath getting increasingly labored, forcing more and more air in and out. And, after a while, droplets of sweat, to remind me of the liquid nature of this body. 

However your body stands, however it is disposed, it is always possible to practice the four elements. According to Leigh, this practice can help us break down the appearance of solidity in one's body, other bodies and other things. It is a tool for experiencing not-self. I also found it a very grounding practice. 

The Space Between

While spinning, I am very aware of the times when things become unpleasant . . . 

Another request from the instructor to turn the knob one more notch. Another long climb. Another song, not on my list of favorites. It does not take much for the mind to start its habitual number. "Oh, no, this is tough, I don't like it, I can't wait for more fun moments." Throat and stomach tighten, and off I am thinking about work awaiting at home, or the next trip to Paris, or last night's dream, etc. Anything but right now. 

The teaching of dependent arising [. . .] shows us the cause and effect that exist within and outside of us. [. . .] Within that cycle there is one doorway through which we can step out, namely, the space between feeling and craving. All the other steps of dependent arising are automatic causes and effects. Unless we learn to live with unpleasant and pleasant feelings, without wanting to get rid of the one or keeping and renewing the other, we don't have access to that doorway - we continue to circle in samsara over and over again. Our training leads us to equanimity as the pinnacle of all emotions, so that our feelings no longer get the better of us. As long as we are victims of our feelings and our emotions, we are not really free. 

~ Ayya Khema, in When the Iron Eagle Flies ~

"Getting ready to head back to the Y." Joel signals the sweet ending of his class. Mind sighs with relief, at the well earned pleasure of  taking it easy after a hard class. Precarious happiness . . . 

Each time, an opportunity to practice stepping out through the doorway, the space between feeling, whether pleasant or unpleasant, and craving or aversion.