~ Rumi
Meditation makes me cry. Not every time I make my way to my cushion...I probably would not make it a daily practice if that were the case. It seems that exactly three consecutive days of meditation lead to me to emotional eruption. The swell begins with deep knotting and pressure in my chest that travels upward forming a solid lump in my throat and eventually emerges as a steady stream of tears.
Last spring I attempted my first meditation retreat at a Goenka Vipassana center. It was a 10 day retreat and entirely too ambitious of an undertaking. After sitting for three days and wrestling with a mountain of resistance my chest began to tighten. As is my way, I fought against this unpleasant sensation with every fiber in my being. I released an army of "shoulds". Meditation should not make me feel bad...Meditation should lead to bliss...This should not be happening. But alas, in a tiny room shared with two others cloaked in noble silence and nothing to do but meditate, there is no place to hide from what is. When the tears came, I panicked and left.
Fast forward to one year later and I am trying this whole retreat thing again. This time more sensibly with a six day retreat, a teacher highly recommended by my teachers and surrounded by a support system of familiar faces. Day 1 of the retreat I was anxious. I was waited with baited breath for the crazies to bubble up. Day 2 of the retreat feeling strong and centered I got a little cocky. The sessions in our Shamatha retreat were broken up into 24 minute sitting segments known as a Gotika with 6 minute breaks in between. I joked, to myself, "I Got-ika this!" Day 3 arrived and I awoke to a tight chest.
The feeling was familiar, but this time my response was something new. Two days prior I met with the teacher for an interview and explained about Goenka and my knot. His response was, "You had no framework for what was happening". My experience is not uncommon in the world of meditation retreats and according to my teacher should be expected at any moment. As you begin to settle the mind in it's natural state the membrane between conscious and unconscious material become permeable. Repressed material, or shadow elements are freed up and all sorts of unpleasant memories, thoughts or emotion can appear. The distracting turbulence of day to day life where we vascillate between excitation, (think hectic pace, multitasking, etc) and dullness (think that glass of wine at the end of your day) keeps this unwanted material in check. And yet, until I actively sought out an explanation for what had happened at the Goenka retreat upon my return, I had never heard of anything like this.
This time as the tears welled up in the meditation hall I did my best to welcome them. Instead of pushing it down, or as my teacher put it, placing my foot on the cellar door, I went limp and did my best to just observe. At the break I returned to my room where I cried mindfully allowing the wave of emotion to sweep through and rock my every cell. What was coming up had no attached story line or conceptual overlay. It was simply raw embodied emotion. The dark and slithery stuff I have worked not to feel for god knows how long.
When the tears subsided, I sat down and made the tightness at my chest the object of my meditation. What I discovered shocked me. This thing...this weight at my chest was an ideal object for meditation. It included coarse tactile sensation for me to observe and like the breath, it seemed to be ever changing. I observed as my knot pulsated growing larger and then smaller and then finally began to untangle and dissipate. My attention was rapt and I even began to relax. Some piece of my awareness developed the mantra, "Welcome, welcome, welcome, you are welcome..." Later this mantra evolved to, "Bring Out Your Dead".
I have learned from my teacher the equation: Suffering = pain x resistance. Hell, I have even taught yoga classes centered on this theme. Reading this blog you may wonder if there is a repressed memory of trauma that is trying to break through and causing me to cry. I think no. I have had my share of pain and imperfect parents who did their best with what they were given. However, I think it is my habitual response to discomfort lurking behind my tears. I am a stuffer. At some time it was communicated to me that painful emotion was unattractive, weak, crazy and to be denied at all cost. I have developed a host of mostly healthy coping or stuffing activities that allow me to function at a high level all the while avoiding uncomfortable emotions. In the intimate context of retreat where all of these resources are removed the cellar door is blown wide open. Without resistance, raw pain flies out.
This is consistent with my direct experience in meditation. Shamatha is developing concentration that is balanced between excitation and relaxation. Part of the process is developing the faculty of watchfulness that checks in frequently asking the question, What do I need right now? More energy or more softening? Each time I checked in what I found is that I had heaps of activity and a deficit of relaxation. After the storm of tears, I reached a new level of surrender that I had not achieved before in meditation. My Gotikas that afternoon were sublime.
I think it's important to talk about the aspects of the practice that are painful to balance discussion of peace and bliss. In my understanding Sadhana was not created with short term happiness as a goal, but ultimate freedom. If we disown the parts of the practice that are painful such as injury from asana and uncomfortable emotional states we create a collective shadow that limits us all as practitioners and isolates those in difficult states. I know the practice is leading me to greater freedom, I can feel it, it is visceral. And it is a process. Much can be gained by relaxing into what makes us uncomfortable both at the personal and collective level and asking the brave question: What do I need right now?
