Learning to Meditate

I've started practicing Transcendental Meditation again.

I think I mentioned before that I began meditating at age 14, on my mother's insistence. She initially wanted us all to learn the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's technique because it would make us lose weight. The TM center used to place eye-catching ads in the Harrisburg paper and one day, mom dragged all of us to an informational seminar that was held in the basement meeting room of the John Wanamaker's (or was it Gimbel's?) at the Harrisburg East Mall.

About 60 people sat in some folding chairs as the buttoned-up and very normal-looking meditation teachers showed a video of the laughing Maharishi as well as a series of graphs and charts explaining how the technique was scientifically proven to reduce blood pressure, remove cravings of tobacco and alcohol and normalize weight. Mom was sold. The next week, we all bundled in the car for our first of many Wednesday night meditation classes.

The TM center was near The Polyclinic hospital, in a very nondescript-looking brick office building, and included one large meeting room. About 40 plastic stacking chairs were lined up in rows and a TV with an early VCR was up front. A message from the Maharishi was usually played during the lecture. I quickly developed a killer impersonation of the white-robe clad, smiling, bearded guy. All I'd have to say was "Eeeeeeh? hahahahahaha" in his voice and both of my sisters would be weak from suppressed giggles. I think my very first bad Indian accent was perfected in that room.

It was a big day when each family member got her own mantra.

The mantra ceremony was a little odd, especially for a 14 year old girl. I followed one of the male TM instructors up a flight of stairs and into a very small room. We sat on metal folding chairs facing each other. Part of me was scared that something untoward would happen. Thankfully, it did not. The teacher was a very kind man. I remember he chanted something to me, and then, he started repeating the same word over and over again. That word became my mantra. I remember it took me a while to catch on and the guy finally had to say to me "This is your mantra, Anne...you need to chant it, also". After chanting the word, it was explained to me that to properly meditate, I would not say the mantra out loud but repeat it silently, in my mind.

We had to sign a contract, saying we would never reveal our sacred word to anybody. But, I felt horribly betrayed when, a couple of years later, during a World Cultures class, I found out that my mantra was the name of the Hindu goddess of fertility. The LAST thing I wanted to be, at that time, was pregnant! I mentally changed the first letter of my mantra, from that day on.

While teenage meditators were rare, there was one other boy from my high school who also occasionally attended the weekly meetings. He had blonde curly hair and I don't remember his name, but I know he kept suggesting I listen to the band "Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks". He was right - I liked them. It was nice not being the only family of "weirdos" at Central Dauphin High.

And, now, after so many years, the one thing that continually amazes me, while deep in meditation, is the fluidity of time. Just the other day, during the afternoon, I began my mantra at around 2pm. When I opened my eyes and felt myself come back to "the present moment", it was 3:50. Nearly 2 hours had passed! I was incredulous. How could this be? Yet, it was definitely not the first time this has happened. I was certain I had just closed my eyes for no more than 20 minutes. And, yesterday, my meditation seemed never-ending. It was strangely torturous and labored. I was "under" for about a half-an-hour.

Because I have been meditating for nearly 36 years, just merely thinking about the practice puts my body in a somewhat relaxed state. Even here, as I type on my laptop in the back of a Starbucks and sip an afternoon cup of coffee, I can feel my body quieting. The place is packed, too. But, I am not irritated. Well, not yet, anyway.

And after all this time, I don't know if my blood pressure has been normalized by TM and it's been a long time since anybody called me thin, but I am sure practicing meditation has benefited me in ways I can't measure.

Thanks, Mom.

Walking, Stopping and Walking Again

I began walking again this week.

I was able to take a couple of long strolls earlier in the week. The first one was down the street, up a hill and over to a shopping center to get a cup of coffee. See, sometimes I can motivate myself out for a walk if I have a destination. Coffee is always a good motivator and a Starbucks iced grande Americano with room for cream and one Splenda is reason enough to get me outside. It wasn't an easy walk, however. This back pain has made me move much slower. I try to breathe deeply as I'm putting one foot in front of the other. After a small back spasm 8 blocks into the stroll, I had to lie down on the grass and try healing visualization. I Imagined healing white light coming in through my forehead (third eye) and traveling down to the red-throbbing area of pain, mingling with that pain and then breathing out pink air (red-mixed-with-white) until the pain was manageable and I was able to hit the pavement again.

A couple of days later, I strolled a little farther and explored a few stores in the shopping center. On my way home, I walked past a house with a couple of cute barking Dachshunds. I was charmed by their over-stuffed sausage bodies. I said my "hello's" to their oh-so-threatening faces. Their owner was outside. She was a woman in a wheelchair who apologized about her dogs behavior and rolled over to the gate for a chat. We exchanged words for a good ten minutes before it dawned on me that she only had one leg. I swear I did not notice before - in fact, I distinctly thought I remembered seeing 2 somewhat shrunken legs. I was a little shocked when I saw only one pant leg, suddenly, reach the ground. We must have spoken for a good half hour. She told me she was a retired nurse. She explained that her leg had been amputated after 3 unsuccessful knee joint replacement surgeries. She described the pain and the grueling physical therapy she endured before finally making the decision to cut the leg off and learn how to use a prosthetic. I really liked her. Cathy's a tough gal and a survivor.

Today's walk was much shorter - only about 10 blocks and I didn't have the strength to go to the coffee shop. I got ambitious a couple of days ago and did some laundry. That entailed several trips up and down 2 flights of stairs. Right now, climbing stairs requires major motivation. It is amazing the little things that we take for granted when we're in good health.

Match Dot Crap

Man, have I been wasting my time these past few days.

Match.com - are any men REAL on that site? Several of them have "winked" at me, and when I "wink" back, their profiles have suddenly disappeared. One man has been chatting with me and declared his undying love for me within about an hour of our chat. His English has been steadily going downhill and he keeps calling me "baby". I have suspicions that he is typing me from the library of the state penitentiary, surrounded by his prison buddies who are goading him on.

Really, if THIS is what it is like "out there", I'm more than happy to be inside. Once this back heals and I can rejoin the world, I look forward to face-to-face conversations. Sheesh!!!

Co-Creator Of This Mess

I want to find a way out of this mess I have created. Why am I such a difficult person?

I don't mean to be critical - I just think we should question the status quo. We are all fed so much information. I can't help but wonder who's agenda we are all serving - the rich have gotten so much richer and the poor, so much poorer. Everything is profit driven. The world has been this way for a while, now, but it seems to have gotten so much worse in the past 10 years.

I remember when I worked at KLSY, my co-host, my ex-brother-in-law, was so eager to always go along with whatever crazy-ass market-driven scheme the wacko general manager was cooking up. Like forcing all of the employees to go to a Tony Robbins seminar. I think I was the only employee who refused to go. Just couldn't make myself attend the event (sponsored, of course, by KLSY) and then be subjected to "seminar high". Tony Robbins totally creeps me out. I don't believe a word he says. He's too shiny. I remember telling my ex-brother-in-law that he had no idea what it was like to be me. I am simply unable to fake a personality or pretend to believe in something in order to keep my job. I'm not sure I know who I am, but I sure know who I am NOT.

And, it has cost me dearly in life. I tried for years to be a morning person so that I could get up at 4am and work on the radio. But, I just couldn't. I hated waking up crying every morning. My body was never able to adapt to the morning radio schedule. So, my radio career lagged. But, the careers of most of the people I ever worked with in the industry have also lagged because radio is killing itself. With all of the obtrusive and blaring advertisements and promotions screaming for attention between a few paltry songs, it is a wonder that anybody is listening at all. I think the public has finally become so frustrated that they are tuning out in droves. The hosts of the talk radio show I used to work for are real sponsor whores. It sickens me the way they talk up the client. I know, I know. Commercial radio runs on ad revenue. The sponsor is the boss. Why do I have to keep reminding myself of this?

Why can't I just "straighten up and fly right"? Just get in line behind the happy-faced throngs and get along with everybody? Why do I keep digging myself deeper into this mess I've co-created? The good will of friends can't last forever. I certainly wore out my welcome with my sister.

Is this what it means to be a grown-up? To give in and compromise and get in line and get along? What's the point of living, then?

I think I've been spending way too much time alone and without a job. I need to co-create a solution. Quickly.