Meditation & Prayer
Listen (Language Warning): “Zen” by Grandson, X Ambassadors, and k.flay
I have an overactive mind fueled by a general anxiety disorder. I’ve been this way since I was a child. I am wondering if it’s a disorder of a majority of the people in the human race—an overactive amygdala. Certainly, trauma survivors fall into this category, but it seems to be a condition that extends beyond the trauma population.
One aspect of my overactive mind relates to my inability to be fully present and grateful in the moment. My mind tends to race backwards and race forwards. When it races backwards, I am often being critical of myself, maybe something I didn’t get done, something I forgot, or something I wish I could change (regrets about the past). When my mind races forwards, I am often anxiously thinking about my to-do-list, my goals, my strategic plan, my relationships, and my fears concerning the future and what might go wrong. Occasionally, I reflect backwards with grateful memories and forwards with hope for the future—a redemptive future.
I recently heard a poem in the mindfulness meditation group I attend, and I thought it gave words to the state of my overactive mind. It’s a poem by John Roedel entitled “The Anatomy of Peace.” (Go to johnroedel.com for the full poem).
my brain and
heart divorced
a decade ago
over who was
to blame about
how big of a mess
I have become
eventually,
they couldn’t be
in the same room
with each other
now my head and heart
share custody of me
I stay with my brain
during the week
and my heart
gets me on weekends
they never speak to one another
-instead, they give me
the same note to pass
to each other every week
on Sundays
my heart complains
about how my
head has let me down
in the past
and on Wednesdays
my head lists all
of the times my
heart has screwed
things up for me
in the future
they blame each
other for the
state of my life
“my heart is always sad about
something that happened yesterday
while my head is always worried
about something that may happen
tomorrow,”
I lamented
“I just can’t live with
my mistakes of the past
or my anxiety about the future,”
I sighed
This brings me to meditation and prayer. I have practiced prayer and meditation on almost a daily basis for over forty years. For the majority of those forty years, my meditation practice involved reading scripture (both Old and New Testament) and praying over the meaning and application of a particular passage for my life. I ask the question: How is God speaking to me through this passage? It’s something I still practice today. However, it doesn’t always help calm my overactive mind.
When I went to rehab at the end of 2018, I was introduced to a new style of meditation called “mindfulness meditation.” I wasn’t completely uneducated about this style of meditation, but I had never studied or practiced it. Over the last couple of years, I have been learning and practicing this style of meditation. If I had to describe this style of meditation in my own terms, I would say: “I am learning to be present and grateful in the moment.”
I usually sit quietly for several minutes (when practicing alone). I think about the sounds and smells around me, then I begin to focus on my body, my breath, and my thoughts and feelings. I am not trying to judge anything. I try to remain open and curious about my own body, my own thoughts, and my own feelings. I always return to focus on my breath. I try to breath in the moment, be fully present in the moment, and be grateful for the gift of life. The gift of this moment. It’s actually a practice that has helped me calm my overactive mind. I’m not very experienced at it, but I am practicing and learning how to be present and grateful in the moment. I also journal my thoughts, feelings, and prayers every morning. I practice this in my office, in nature, and in my meditation group. It’s been a valuable addition to my practice of prayer and meditation.
For people in recovery, prayer and meditation is the focus of Step Eleven: “Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.” I have heard hundreds of stories of how mindfulness meditation has become a powerful practice to help people improve their “conscious contact with God.”
In John Roedel’s poem “Anatomy of Peace,” he moves from his head and his heart to his gut and his lungs. It’s his lungs that help him make peace with his head and his heart. Here’s the conclusion to his poem:
“I just can’t live with
my mistakes of the past
or my anxiety about the future,”
I sighed
my gut smiled and said:
“in that case,
you should
go stay with your
lungs for a while,”
I was confused
-the look on my face gave it away
“if you are exhausted about
your heart’s obsession with
the fixed past and your mind’s focus
on the uncertain future
your lungs are the perfect place for you
there is no yesterday in your lungs
there is no tomorrow there either
there is only now
there is only inhale
there is only exhale
there is only this moment
there is only breath
and in the breath
your can rest while your
heart and head work
their relationship out
this morning,
while my brain
was busy reading
tea leaves
and while my
heart was staring
at old photographs
I packed a little
bag and walked
to the door of
my lungs
before I could even knock
she opened the door
with a smile and as
a gust of air embraced me
she said
“what took you so long?”
In Genesis 2:7, notice the focus on breath: “Then the Lord God fashioned the human, humus from the soil, and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and the human became a living creature” (The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary by Robert Alter).
Shalom
©realfredherron, 2021
