Conscious Choice: The Buddhist WannaBe

November 1998

The Buddhist WannaBe

Looking for Lauren

by Diane Wilson

My best friend is going through a mid-life crisis of growth, so she says... Lauren says she needs to turn inward and to be with herself. I have thought that was just some code for wanting to distance and discontinue our relationship. She describes this as a chrysalis — with her a cocoon working to become a butterfly.

In some ways, we’ve been a study of opposites. Lauren, dark and on the short side, is

soft-spoken and wise with a will of steel. Her opinions are not immediately evident but her values and thoughts run deep. I am tall, blond, and a far less conservative dresser. I have been described as funny, a bit chatty, with the temperament of a race horse. In the broader context of this intense relationship is a pair of patient husbands who have resigned themselves to respect what they have no hope to alter — our bond, with all its ups and downs. While different, Lauren and I have been like soul mates, with her wisdom and presence providing an essential energy in my life.

In the midst of significant life changes, including turning forty-five, taking a sabbatical and some family difficulties, Laurens upheaval and personal readjustment has been more encompassing than either of us could have imagined. It marked the beginning of an expedition I haven’t really understood. Having turned inward, she has nothing to say to anyone and spends most of her free time meditating, painting, and journaling.

Recently, she suggested" Let’s not talk for a month" (gulp). She has carved out this time for solitude, and her journey inward becomes my fascination. As Lauren began her sojurn from the world of friends, I began to wonder: Where does she go, inside, and what is she doing?

Long ago, after reading Andrew Weil’s Natural Health, Natural Medicine, I had concluded meditation was not for me. Weil says some people may not be ready for the concentration it requires. I thought that category probably included me.

Now, as I toyed with the thought of meditation, another friend reminded me about her husband. He practices meditation with the monks at a Thai Buddhist Temple in the area. I felt intrigued by the results she recounted: he is much less stressed even during incredibly busy times. She is in awe of his regime of running each morning, spreading loving kindness throughout the neighborhood, and then sitting for 30 minutes in quiet meditation. It’s not the reduced stress that interests me when I think of her husband, it’s this incredible sense of innocence he has. A financial officer for manufacturing firm, he is one of the smartest people I ever met. Most stunning, however, is his child-like sense of wonder and humor. At his invitation, I accompanied him to the Temple.

What can I say about my first time? Overall, the monks were real and this was probably the first time I did not talk for more than an hour and a half — except when I was sleeping. After years of dance, I found it wasn’t hard for me to sit in the lotus position — legs crossed and back straight. I felt sure that if nothing else worked the same for me as it did the monks, at least I could look the part. But no one was looking.

It seemed impossible to do as the elder monk gently coached: "Focus on your breathing. Let go of your thoughts and empty your mind." Instead, I discovered my mind LOVES to talk and so often times I just let it. While I know this isn’t the purpose of meditation, for me, just sitting and listening to my own thoughts seemed like progress. Is this where Lauren is? How does this let her grow?

Peeking through my broken concentration, I watched one monk sit perfectly still, without appearing to move or even breathe, for about ninety minutes. After working years in the hustle-bustle of downtown Chicago , the contrast was stark. In traditional Thai monastery wrap, with one shoulder bare, this bronze, small monk appeared timelessly connected to another world. Serene and glowing, his beautiful Mongolian features showed not a trace of pretense or affect. He looked like an angel....

After meditation practice, the elder monk asked about the experience of our group. People spoke in soft tones as to not disturb their lingering serenity, I guess. I offered that I had never sat still so long before. The monks didn’t laugh.

On the way home, I wondered if I really wanted to stop thinking — to "empty my mind." I thought, what is wrong with having a mind that can think of many things at once? How could slowing my thinking down somehow be better? How could I possibly lose out on the thinking I now do about my life and world? As I explored all this, I realized how unaware I am that my mind has different speeds or "levels of emptiness." I have taken my thinking for granted. I work and live in an information world, where I have done quite well, thank you. Still, I am haunted by Lauren. Where is my friend? How does this make her feel better?

In the days that followed my first meditation practice, it seemed I suddenly was confronted with people and readings discussing meditation. While much is written in the popular press about meditating and "centering," it is difficult to understand what the human experience is. ("Oh yes, I meditate.") I thought perhaps my view was soured in the early 1970s by a TM (Transcendental Meditation) presentation in which two demonstrators were whispering to each other while the rest of us were supposed to have our eyes closed. I felt suspicious. Further, it seemed expensive. In contrast, the sessions at the Temple don’t require money. After some extensive thought, I released some of my skepticism and conceded that resting my mind may be a valuable activity — that’s how I could understand meditation best.

During the second session the elder monk led our small group into the individual sitting meditation but we also did "meditative walking." That’s when you are supposed to be "in the moment" and walk. It was hard for me to stop the "mind chatter" during sitting exercises; however, the walking was even harder. The Master tried to guide us to unify the movement of our bodies with our minds, coaching us in Thai(foot is "yang [lifting/moving] geeup [touching the carpet]." After years of navigating around on these two feet, I was befuddled with trying to do something as simple as walking slowly and concentrating on it. I felt truly inept. My mind raced around the Temple... In the background, I could hear the Master saying "Yang......geeup"... over... and over... and over....

After my third and most recent session, I still feel challenged to understand this inner world. My mind, enlightenment, and truth still seem like honorable conquests. While the results of my efforts are subtle, I can already discern them: During my day, I feel more inclined to listen to my thoughts. I’m a little less likely to immediately turn on the radio in my car. I have a long way to go to be able to "empty my mind," turn inward, and find calm peace. I remain mystified at the connection to this inner world these Buddhist monks are perfecting and feel honored to be able to spend time with them. I still do wonder where Lauren goes. But I am beginning to feel that I can wait, in some measure of quiet, till she comes back.

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