June 2, 2012
A visit from a friend the other day brought an unexpected gift. One of the greatest things a friend can do is to help us to love and appreciate ourselves more, and that’s exactly what my friend did when she visited my home. My friend, also named Mary, is a beautiful woman, beautiful inside and out. She is always beautifully dressed, her hair perfect, and you could drop into her home at any time to find a picture perfect, lovely and orderly environment. We share a love of nature, and I have always admired her meticulously cared for, orderly (and weedless) garden and yard.
Mary always makes me feel special and loved, yet despite this I felt a bit intimidated about having her visit me at my home for the first time. I am not a perfect housekeeper. My garden, as filled as it is with beautiful things, is never weed-free and certainly not symmetrical or planned with any sort of special arrangement in mind. You could say that these things, as well as how I dress, is “casual”. As I ushered her along the patio to the door, she immediately remarked on how beautiful my yard is. I was really struck by this. While I was seeing the weeds that need to be pulled, plants that need to be replaced and spots where something needs to be planted, all she saw was the beauty of the flowers and shrubs. Her appreciation was genuine, and what I saw as a “deficiency” in my gardening, she saw as delightful. She was enjoying the casualness and spontaneity of it, which mirrors nature itself.
Mary helped me see things, myself included, with new eyes. This continued once we were inside and she commented on the peacefulness and quiet in our home — that was what she noticed, not the details of the furnishings. I showed her a painting of wisteria by my mother. I have always enjoyed it as I love wisteria and the painting seems to capture it in a charming way. Mary said she liked it because of the way the wisteria is casually presented — not contained neatly inside the picture in a symmetrical way. There is a certain sense of abandon in it. Now when I look at the painting, I see it as a reflection of my garden and some of the traits my mother passed on to me.
Mary’s visit left me with a greater acceptance, and even appreciation, of myself. My experience of my garden and yard is different. I see it with new eyes, and appreciate it more everyday. As I thought of sharing this story with you, I couldn’t help but see the connection with the style of meditation I’ve embraced. It’s one of acceptance of what is, including acceptance of oneself. I hope our visits together in the meditations bring you the same gift Mary’s visit brought me.
April 9, 2009
It’s so easy to enter a meditative state while knitting. Something about the rhythmic movement back and forth between the right and left hands, something about the soothing repetition of movements. Something about it…
I am not the first, nor will I be the last, to write about knitting as a meditative art. People have tried to understand it in right brain/left brain terms. It has been compared to EMDR with its right and left eye movements. There have been lots of attempts to explain why it works, as if people need to prove its therapeutic benefits. I don’t really care why it works, it’s enough for me that it does.
I picked up knitting at a particularly stressful time in my life, not realizing that it had become a craze. Having learned it when I was young, my mind-body must have remembered the feeling of it and signaled my intuition that it was time to start knitting again. I find knitting to be so comforting and relaxing. I’ve known that it produces a meditative state, but it was just a couple days ago that I fully appreciated its power. When I was thinking about the similarity between meditation and knitting, I realized that you can’t worry and knit at the same time!
When you worry, the mind gets involved in a train of thought — a story about what might happen, what could happen, what might have happened and so on. Worrying engages the emotions in a way that creates anxiety. The use of your hands and the sight of the stitches being formed breaks that pattern. I challenge you to see if you can worry while you knit! To test this out, I knit a few rows actually trying to worry. I couldn’t do it. I could come up with worry thoughts like “what if that pain is a horrible disease” and “what if I can’t pay the bills next month”, but no matter what thought I conjured up, there was no emotional juice that came with it.
So many of the phrases I use while leading guided meditations aim to do this same thing — to disentangle the thoughts from the emotions, to allow the mind to break free of its usual patterns so that one enjoys a simple, open state of awareness. When I say things like “not minding the stories of the mind” or “let thoughts be a meaningless activity in the mind”, I am encouraging the mind to do what it does while we knit — disengage.
If you decide to knit to meditate, I think you’ll find the effect is the most powerful when you do a simple knit stitch over and over. In knitting, it’s called “garter stitch”. You just knit and knit and knit and don’t try to follow a complex pattern. It’s easy to learn, and you may find you also love handling beautifully colored yarns with various yummy textures. You might even end up with some great scarves in the process!
OK, so you’re behind the curve on the knitting craze. For all I know it’s over. Who cares? Knitting makes a great meditation. And, if you are hesitant because you are of the male gender, please know that, to borrow a book title, “real men knit”. Russell Crowe does it. Brad Pitt does it. The big, talk Ghi McBride character on Pushing Daisies does it. Just do it!
January 10, 2007
Anything can trigger a “meditative state”. That shift in awareness that we call meditation is natural to the mind. The mind will take the opportunity to shift any chance it gets, we just don’t always give it the time and space to do it. But sometimes it happens unexpectedly — the sight of a sunset, a baby’s wide open eyes, even something painful like grief. It happens when something jogs the mind out of its analytical, linear mode and allows the awareness to expand. It happened to me today when I visited Candleday, the blog of Tomas Karkalas who posted the very first comment to my very first post on this (or any) blog.
Candleday, with its beautiful art and straightforward, heartfelt spiritual depth created the heart-opening, body-relaxing, sense-enhancing shift that I needed to take with me into my left-brained adventure into learning how to blog.
What triggers a meditative shift for you? Would love to hear your comments.