The Body Knows Before the Brain

I’m starting to realize that off-grid land living is rather akin to what the process was like for me in becoming a person who practiced sitting meditation. Uncomfortable and strange and painfully unfamiliar. And yet, the heightened feelings of discomfort and strangeness and unfamiliarity were all in service to help flow the river of energy that is me – an often stubborn body of water, engrained in its ways – in the direction of something that was calling, and felt “right” to move towards. 

Don’t ask me how or why, but paired together sometimes are discomfort & contentment. I know it sounds impossible, as though one would automatically cancel the other one out. I know it doesn’t make logical sense. Still, when one steps on any new path, when it’s the right one, the discomfort that arises is a different brand than we experiences when traveling on a path that is leading us astray. The differences are subtle, but they very much exist. 

The body knows before the mind when it’s heading in the right direction. 

Thing is, the idea of doing something will always be way different than actually doing whatever it is. Whether it’s practicing meditation or living off-grid or learning how to fly-fish or pursuing a new career. Before we get into the real live thick of it, our romanticized ideas will whisk us away into a magical land of make-belive, where rainbows and puppies exist in unending supply.

From as far back as I can remember, something has called and spoken to me to live a different way of life. Counter to the culture displayed on the main stage around me. Counter to the messaging we abundantly receive here in the U.S through media, entertainment, and advertising. Counter to the hardcore military-like training instilled in us to believe that happiness means looking a certain way, having certain things, or acquiring a certain professional status, and that success is measured by the size of your residence, bank account, collection of toys & gadgets, and amount of awards, degrees, and accolades received. 

One Gal Flying Solo

April 18, 2023, Journal Entry

7pm and the sky dims in preparation for night’s return. I’m alone on the land overnight, for what amounts to only the second time since we moved here last July. While I’m no stranger to solo travels and overnights, I by no means am a well-seasoned veteran. Mostly I am with my person. I only dabble in the art of flying solo. So every time I am faced with being the lone crusader involving day turning to night and back to day again, it requires an extra rallying of inner strength. A strength I am sometimes unsure I have, but always seem to muster in the end. 

Safety is an interesting thing to contemplate and consider. A vocal raven has been calling outside and I’m not sure if it’s in reassurance or warning. With my person, I always feel safe. Without him, my surroundings get put into question. But as I have an interest in wanting to skill-build in this department, here I am, optionally choosing to lean into the discomfort involved in dwelling alone for a couple of nights. 

I’m a dame who places value in conjuring a balance of having in mind a plan of action should something unwelcome happen, and centering myself with ease and friendliness in the present moment. It’s not uncommon for me to need to sweet-talk myself away from crossing over into the unhelpful realm of catastrophizing. But if there’s anything I am good at it’s self-befriending, and I regard it as one of the most practical and superbly beneficial skills I’ve worked to develop. 

As the mountain air cools outside, the woodstove crackles inside. After eating a delicious dinner of butternut soup and rosemary focaccia from Le Petit, I went for a walkabout up to Morning Sun meadow. When I came back, I sang the evening chant and sat for a bit in meditation. These are a few of my favorite things. 

My heart thrums with the community of trees rooted in all directions. As they transmit their poetry of harmony and quiet rejoice, I, too, cast the net of my loving-kindness near and far. As a means of both protection and sacred connection.

On Concentration

 

Shine the light & steady the beam.
Look deeply, in order to see things 
more clearly. 

Mike & I are gearing up to head back home to Montana soon. We arrived here to Deer Park Monastery in late October. In a little over a week, we’ll take to the road in our 1989 Chevy conversion van and head north.

When I reflect on why it is I prioritize coming here to spend time every year, what comes up for me centers around developing the quality of concentration in my practice. I come here to Shine the light & steady the beam. By “shine the light,” I’m referring to the light of mindfulness, or present moment awareness. By “steady the beam,” I’m referring to the act of concentration; of holding that light of mindfulness in one place, for a longer period of time than I am typically able to. It helps me to think about this in terms of navigating a dark cave with a flashlight. To explore the cave, I could wave my flashlight around, illuminating any number of things in different directions, or I could hold the flashlight still, in order to investigate one particular spot up close and in more detail. There’s value, of course, in waving the light around. But there’s value also in learning how to steady the beam. 

I consider myself as being someone who has a strong mindfulness practice in my daily life, but I don’t feel as though my quality of concentration is particularly strong. When I come here, the conditions, community, and container are such that I am able to develop and strengthen this aspect of practice. 

Inscribed on the large & lovely stained glass window situated above the main alter in the Big Meditation Hall here at Deer Park (DP), are the Sanskrit words Smrti Samadhi Prajna, which means: Mindfulness Concentration Insight. Mindfulness is a component of concentration; concentration is a component of insight; and insight is a necessary component of transformation. To be clear, insight is not the same thing as knowledge. Insight isn’t something that comes from reading or studying or collecting information or developing intellectual understanding. Insight is born from embodied experience. In the context of the spiritual tradition I practice in, insight is what develops through the process of watering the seed of mindfulness and developing the art of concentration. 

In my way of thinking, in order to go further and deeper on one’s spiritual practice path, it’s essential to hone and cultivate the quality of concentration. Without the element of concentration, one can only travel so far. If we are someone who has a strong desire to continuously develop & prioritize the spiritual dimension of our life, practicing concentration is not just a good idea; it’s a necessary part of the process.