Had a lovely experience learning to meditate at the Shambhala Center in Washington D.C. What was so lovely? It was gentle, slow, calm and inspiring, just like I wanted it to be. I got great directions from the site and from my sister who lives in West Friendship. The center was easy to find as was the parking. I thought I recognized one of the attendants from a picture on the website, but maybe not. Anyway, the instructor was a total surprise: a worldly-looking woman with two pale blonde streaks in her jet black hair.
I refused to volunteer my previous meditation experience because it didn't seem to count. One of the students was a woman just back from a week of meditating in a Zen center in Vermont. There were also those who had never meditated before - probably about half of the class of 25. I was hesitant to mention my experience because it involved meditating to the hum of an old-fashioned turntable in 1970. It also involved a college level course in Tai Chi in 1992, which I wouldn't even have considered meditation but according to the instructor it is.
After a 30 minute introduction during which she described what meditating isn't, we meditated for 15 minutes. After a break there was a 10-minute meditation followed by a 10-minute walking meditation. The fee included lunch which was quite tasty and surprisingly included chicken and ham.
I don't have the official cushions at home. I pulled four pillows out of the attic and piled them up to make a seat in front of my little altar. I've been practicing. It's harder at home. My room has stuff in it unlike the clean group meditation room at the center. Just walking into that room put me into a light trance.
Today I am rejoicing at being alone. Pip, the dog, is in the process of shredding a stuffed toy into tiny shards of styrofoam. The living room is littered with them. No point cleaning up until he's done. I just don't care anymore. I'm not going to try to impress anyone. It's my life and it's just fine by me.
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