During the Freedom/Mayday weekend I was at the Fynbos Estate on a Mindfulness/Biodanza retreat. Not really my 'thing' - the stillness stuff - but I love Biodanza, so I knew I'd be moving some of the time and there would be music. It was led by Lisa Firer and Simon Whitesman - two of my favourite people so I was curious about what it is that they are so passionate about in these two practices. The idea for this combination of activities seemed to come from a poem by T.S. Eliot:
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
Do you really understand this? Well, I didn't. I'm not even sure if I do now. It seems to have something to do with being in the present moment. And it's true - when I'm dancing, I'm not often thinking of anything else other than moving to the music.
We were supposed to be able to achieve this "still point" by paying attention to our breathing.This was very boring and I fell asleep a lot.
In the first feedback session, one woman - also a novice - said she had listened to her breath and that felt helpful to me. I tried that and my mind wandered happily and I wasn't falling asleep as much. Also by the second day, we had walking meditations which I began to enjoy - with the wind on my face and in the trees and the birdsong in my ears. We were supposed to stick to one sensory modality if possible, but I reckon there are no shoulds in the life of a septuagenarian - being in the present is good enough for me.
Then came the day of Noble Silence. I was sure I would hate it. Well, what do you know? - I loved it. I took time to think about what I wanted to do before eating breakfast - a few yoga stretches. For once I noticed I was thirsty - so two glasses of orange juice before eating. Also I realised that I preferred to drink and eat while standing or walking - so that's what I did. My 'inner misanthrope' came to the fore - I loved not having to pay attention to anyone else. (My older sister who of-course remembers some of my childhood better than I do, commented that it was probably my 'inner nun'). Then, best of all, an image came with the breath - of swinging on a swing. Oh happy day! Because I spent it swinging. I could swing really high and there'd be the pause at the end of the inhalation, when I almost bounced off the swing. I tried holding my breath there and I could just bounce off into the sky. Unfortunately, at the end of the exhalation, it seemed very dark down there at the bottom of the swing, and there were a lot of dead bodies on the ground. But having just been to Rwanda, that wasn't too surprising. Simon told me later I wasn't supposed to do that. Of-course my 'inner rebel' was going to push a boundary or two - the idea wormed its way up from the last acid trip I ever had many years ago. So I got a chance to notice my various 'inners', which I suppose is what this mindfulness might be partly about.
Added to all of that, we also danced every day. Lisa, like a fiery sprite, modelled sensitivity, passion, connectedness and emotionality to the music she chose. Simon seemed able to understand and respond to all the tricks our minds play on us, and gave us a wonderful lecture on the brain-body linkages on which the idea of the weekend was based. The setting was beautiful, storms raged around us, the vegetarian food was superb and my roommate - a friend of many years - was a great companion. When we weren't being serious and silent, we were in such high spirits, our neighbour had to ask us to be quiet.
I consider myself to be a fairly evolved kind of being, but to see the effect of this weekend on the participants who were completely new to this kind of self exploration was truly wonderful. They blossomed. And I have noticed at odd moments almost every day, that I too, have changed.
In the first feedback session, one woman - also a novice - said she had listened to her breath and that felt helpful to me. I tried that and my mind wandered happily and I wasn't falling asleep as much. Also by the second day, we had walking meditations which I began to enjoy - with the wind on my face and in the trees and the birdsong in my ears. We were supposed to stick to one sensory modality if possible, but I reckon there are no shoulds in the life of a septuagenarian - being in the present is good enough for me.
Then came the day of Noble Silence. I was sure I would hate it. Well, what do you know? - I loved it. I took time to think about what I wanted to do before eating breakfast - a few yoga stretches. For once I noticed I was thirsty - so two glasses of orange juice before eating. Also I realised that I preferred to drink and eat while standing or walking - so that's what I did. My 'inner misanthrope' came to the fore - I loved not having to pay attention to anyone else. (My older sister who of-course remembers some of my childhood better than I do, commented that it was probably my 'inner nun'). Then, best of all, an image came with the breath - of swinging on a swing. Oh happy day! Because I spent it swinging. I could swing really high and there'd be the pause at the end of the inhalation, when I almost bounced off the swing. I tried holding my breath there and I could just bounce off into the sky. Unfortunately, at the end of the exhalation, it seemed very dark down there at the bottom of the swing, and there were a lot of dead bodies on the ground. But having just been to Rwanda, that wasn't too surprising. Simon told me later I wasn't supposed to do that. Of-course my 'inner rebel' was going to push a boundary or two - the idea wormed its way up from the last acid trip I ever had many years ago. So I got a chance to notice my various 'inners', which I suppose is what this mindfulness might be partly about.
Added to all of that, we also danced every day. Lisa, like a fiery sprite, modelled sensitivity, passion, connectedness and emotionality to the music she chose. Simon seemed able to understand and respond to all the tricks our minds play on us, and gave us a wonderful lecture on the brain-body linkages on which the idea of the weekend was based. The setting was beautiful, storms raged around us, the vegetarian food was superb and my roommate - a friend of many years - was a great companion. When we weren't being serious and silent, we were in such high spirits, our neighbour had to ask us to be quiet.
I consider myself to be a fairly evolved kind of being, but to see the effect of this weekend on the participants who were completely new to this kind of self exploration was truly wonderful. They blossomed. And I have noticed at odd moments almost every day, that I too, have changed.
In Zen-Buddhism there are so-called KOANS which one doesn't understand either ... they shall help to come more into the here and now which is the core issue in mindfulness practice. In behavioral therapy, many mindfulness exercises have been included into psychotherapy most recently
ReplyDelete