daily meditation practice. It has morphed, evolved and changed locations, yet
each day I have made my way into the practice one way or another.
My
current morning practice is fairly ritualized and goes something like this.
Wake up, drink water, neti post and make my way into my sacred space. I have a
long, low altar in a dark wood of Asian design upon which I light candles, have
photos of beloveds and various items that hold meaning such as gifts from
students. I find my comfortable seat, light candles and read from A Year of
Living Your Yoga, Daily Practices To Shape Your Life by Judith Hanson
Lasater. Some days the passage resonates perfectly with where I’m at and others
it results in a few moments of contemplation.
Next in my process is to
engage my breath and chant usually a Hindu-based mantra. This past year, I’ve
been learning the Hanuman Chalisa, an epic 40 verse tribute to the all-serving
monkey God, Hanuman. When the chant is finished, I sit for another 20 minutes
or so until my Insight Meditation timer sounds its bells and I close my session
by chanting OM three times, bow down and head off into my day.
And this has been the usual pattern for most of the past six years. The
only time it has changed is when I’m out of my ordinary day, traveling or
experiencing illness. Regardless, I make time for it no matter where I
am.
One of my sweetest experiences with my morning practice happened
about a week ago. I was staying with friends in San Diego as I attended the
Yoga Journal conference. These friends are not only generous, but dear fellow
yogis. They have two kids who are six and almost eight years old who love to
hang out with us when we visit.
After the conference on the Saturday
night, I made it back to their place with about 45 minutes to spare before the
kids were heading off to bed. They were both keen to play with me, but had to
hit the hay instead. I said to the eight year old boy that maybe we could hang
out in the morning before I had to leave for the conference but no promises were
made.
On the Sunday morning, I was up just before 6 am and launched into
my usual meditation practice…sitting cross legged on the bed, earplugs in
chanting the Hanuman chalisa. During this, I hear a rumbling of footsteps from
upstairs, but I pay it no more attention than noticing it. In another few
minutes, I hear my bedroom door, slowly creak open. I can’t help myself and
slowly peek out of the corner of my eyes to see the young boy, standing silently
and still, staring at me.
In this moment I have a few choices: 1) shoo
him away; 2) ignore him completely or 3) invite him in. The less evolved Jayne
might have stayed with the thought of “this is MY meditation time and he’ll just
have to wait. It’s not OK for him to interrupt me”. But, I didn’t, the more
evolved Jayne showed up. I signaled for him to come in and wait until I
finished the chant.
It was the sweetest of meditations. I let go of my
own agenda to show up for the unbridled enthusiasm of a young child who wanted
to spend time with me. What a gift. No longer was my lesson the ritual of my
own practice, but something so much bigger. Welcoming all that arose in that
moment through opening my heart and practice to a younger being and by doing so,
my own heart expanded.
The change of plans helped me to remember to be
flexible in my often rigid practice. To invite the sweetness of a child into my
usually childless life and to know that my connection to essence is not always
in sitting in silence but sometimes in holding space for others.
Thanks
for the lesson my little friend!
