The Power of A Practice

Broke. Busted. And Disgusted. A way out.

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The Power of a Practice:

I remember the interesting way I became aware of Vipassana Meditation. I had met a potential love interest at Amma's. In the course of our hanging out, she mentioned she had a fascinating documentary video that she wanted to watch and invited me over to watch it with her. It was about a prison in India that hired a woman to run it and the revolutionary way she went about it. She introduced a meditation technique into a very dysfunctional system, and it was yielding amazing results - not just with the prisoners but with the staff as well. While the documentary was about her and the terrible conditions at the prison she was tasked to run, it spent a good amount of time on the prisoner and staff testimonies of how “the program” worked for them. That technique was called Vipassana Meditation. (You can learn more about it here: https://www.dhamma.org/ ).

Well, sad to say, she and I fizzled, but the seed of Vipassana was planted in my mind without me even knowing it.

Fast forward some months later, a friend of mine, Katya, and I were talking about program stuff in her kitchen, and I noticed a flyer on the fridge about a “Vipassana” meditation. She told me it was amazing and that she and her husband had gone a few times. Wow. Talk about coincidences, I remembered the video of a few months before. Was this a sign?

I took the information and have been a fan ever since. I've gone to three 10-day and two 3-day retreats, as well as practiced on my own at home - sporadically but still a practice.

At the start, like so many things for me, it was amazing. Then it got bland. Then it got relegated to the every-now-and-then corner of life.

But it never disappeared.

Some years later, I found myself in dire straits mentally and emotionally. I had been there for a long time actually, and it was reaching a peak. A very dark place made even darker when dire straits reach a peak.

Broke. Busted. Disgusted. Probably describes it best. No prospects. Not able to clearly state my needs. So asking for help didn't get any results, and the little it might have, I was too anxious to hear whatever answers were being offered. Not able to trust anyone beyond the superficial conversations that take place in those short slivers of rushed time before and after meetings. I was getting those 5-day vacate notices and invites to appear in eviction court. I had long since abandoned credit, so if I didn't have cash, I didn't eat.

The anxiety was intoxicatingly overwhelming. I walked daily in that 'I don't want to die but I don't want to live' space. Wondering, each morning my eyes opened -- why?

Then my parents passed away, and I inherited a big sum of money. There was some light in that dark space. I was living larger than ever before. For a minute.
Perhaps money was the problem afterall, and now that I had some, things would change for the better.

They did. For a minute.

Then the money did what money does when there isn't a source of replenishment: it ran out. I was back to broke. I remember sitting down in my apartment, looking around, and realizing there was nothing there that would indicate someone had just had a large sum of money. Like... wtf?

That's when I began to know on a deeper level that it was me. There was something inside me, my thinking, wired to keep me broke, busted, and disgusted. Regardless of how much money, clothes, hairstyles (when I had hair), relationships or stuff - nothing fixed me or my life in a sustainable way.

I experienced it like a cocaine high - momentary relief and then the crash.

I was surrounded by self-help books - all of which were amazing. I had bookmarks to Abraham Hicks, Rev. Ike, Neville Goddard, Ernest Holmes, Mega-Church pastors, positive thinkers, and speakers. People like Genevieve Behrend, Mary Baker Eddy, Emile Caddy, Oprah, Thomas Troward, James Allen, Raymond Charles Barker, Wayne Dyer, Emmet Fox, Joel S. Goldsmith, Louise Hay, Emma Curtis Hopkins, Christian D. Larson, Joseph Murphy, Catherine Ponder, Bob Proctor, Florence Scovel Shinn - just to name a few, lol.

I, who had done mega daily affirmations and prayers, and yet here I was back to broke, busted, and disgusted. The generosity tokens of my landlord once again ran out - mainly because my impulsive healing method is to roll into a ball like one of those garden bugs and hope the uncomfortable disappears. But we all know that life’s uncomfortables just take a seat and wait.

I began to empty closets and sift through stuff preparing for the worst. I was, as I had discovered when I hit bottom a few years before and got sober, unable to save my own life.

I remember there came a time when I just sat on the floor exasperated. How could I say I had a God, a Higher Power, in my life and my life keep turning out like this? How could so many people, authors, friends, etc., speak of miraculous outcomes of following this or that formula and I keep coming back here?

Then I said something like this: God, either all this stuff is true or it's not. Either you are or you are not. I can't manage this any longer. If it is your will that I be homeless, then help me be a decent homeless person. If not, get me out of this.

I went to YouTube on my iPad and found a Vipassana Anapana video and began meditating, focusing on breathing. I had run out of words and visualizations. I was at botom - different than when I walked into 12 step but bottom nonetheless.

I just sat and breathed. Breathing to become aware of breathing and hence to be in that still space. More on Anapana Meditation can be found »here« in a talk by S. N. Goenka.

First, I focused on the space where my nose and lip meet. Feeling the breath move in over that and move out over that. Not trying to change anything - to make myself breathe fast or slow. Just observing. Then I focused on the breath working its way into my stomach. Gently. Normally. Just breathed.

After a couple of days of this, I began to become aware of the feeling of space between my belly and my back. Less anxiety churning there. I was feeling calmer. That space got bigger and bigger.

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Court day.

I woke, meditated, prayed. I let go as much as I could. Now it was up to God. To HP.

Well, truth be told, it was always his, but now there was less interference from me regardless of the direction I would be sent.

I arrived at Court a little early and went to stand by the courtroom door. I bought something positive to read and pulled it out. As I stood there, I became aware of the people around me. Older Caribbean women. Lots of them. 'The next wave of gentrification,' I thought. I half-expected to be hearing some angry tirades, but instead, they were laughing and joking and catching up - like we were out on a picnic or something. I remember thinking how odd - don't they know where we are?

But after a time, their laughter became a bit infectious. It lightened my mood. I thought, well, if they can be happy in this situation, so could I. I stopped scowling and became grateful. Maybe this was a sign?

The court door opened, we walked in. I noticed the slightly elevated judge's chair and a big off-white empty wall behind it with nothing on it but a framed image of 'In God We Trust.' Another sign? I laughed to myself - okay God, no matter what, we are trusting.

The judge comes out and goes through the preliminary 'put your cell phones away or on vibrate... etc.' Then starts calling cases. That feeling of anxiety was starting to come back. I closed my eyes and just focused on breathing in and breathing out. Naturally. Just letting it happen. Not trying to force anything or change anything or react to anything. Just being present in the moment through breathing.

I began to notice something about the way the judge was handling cases. He was friendlier to the tenant side than the landlord lawyers' side. He took extra time to make sure the tenant understood the directions, gave a couple of phone numbers to call and mentioned his name for extra help.

I began to feel an even greater sense of hope.

Then my name was called. I walked up to the bench. He went over the case and asked if I had applied for a one-shot deal. I told him that application was in the works. He said, 'Okay, come back in three months.' Next…

I was a little stunned. I expected him to say I had abused all my generosity tokens and there was nothing he could do. Instead, I had 3 months more than I thought. Not off the hook. But not on the hook as much as I thought.

The Divine breath had freed space in the gap I thought was closed.

In that three months, I was able to get the support I needed, and my landlord got the money they were owed.

The anxiety began to lift even further. More things began to manifest.

I won't go into all the cash and prizes because it wasn't about cash and prizes Even though at times cash and prizes are fun and important.

It was really about understanding the nature of the spiritual dis-ease I was suffering from. A dis-ease that only constant practice keeps in check. As they say in AA, 'We are not saints. The point is that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines.' A large part of that growth, for me, has been a constant effort at letting go and letting God. Whatever confusions I may have had about who or what “God” is, life has been quick to let me know it wasn’t me.

This is the thing. A 'practice' keeps us on those spiritual lines, and from there, we grow in a more Divine direction than not.

So what is your practice? Can you go back through your life and see moments where it was instrumental in helping carry you forward?

If not, you can start now. I've included a link to Vipassana in here, but you can also google or YouTube search meditations, prayers, etc. Find what is right for you and start right where you are.

Imagine, all the money and time, the books and videos, all boiling down to
'sit and breathe.'

Or to put it another way, 'be still, and know, that I am God.'

This is the power of a “practice."

May you be blessed to continue to be a blessing in your life and the lives of others.

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