Interruptions (Meditating with Cats)

I have a cat who thinks sitting on a meditation cushion is how I offer her my attention. At first I try to ignore her wailing cries because, "meditation is supposed to be about letting things be as they are without trying to change them". Eventually she wins, and my compassion gets the best of me. . . I am petting the cat..

Rini is delighted, and purrs loudly. She presses her boney shoulders into my hands, digging my fingers more deeply into her fur. I find myself wondering if this is truly a distraction or if it might be possible to be present with an animal, like Rini the Cat. Ignoring her, as she begs for something I normally give freely, seems cruel.

Her desires are so simple. She talks, begs, all the time but normally only wants one of two things - attention or food. Rini seems to be very happy when she has a full bowl and my full attention. She is a simple creature but not dumb. When you look into her eyes you can tell she is thinking and problem solving.

Who am I to deny her something she wants so badly? Rini cannot possibly understand why I would sit motionless, apparently doing nothing, and deny her my available hands.

After giving Rini five minutes of my sitting time, I decide to bring my hands back to their resting place in my lap. At first she nuzzles me all over, trying to will my hands back into motion, but this time Rini does not cry.

I settle my eyes on the wall in front of me and readjust my posture. Rini settles too. She sits beside me on the rug, purring loudly, with her head snuggled into my side. We finish my practice. Everybody wins.

Rini is a ten year old Manx cat. She has always been very affectionate and talkative. She has been with me since she was a kitten and is definitely a member of our family.

7 Day Mindfulness Challenge - Doors

My generation grew up with Yahoo chat rooms and AIM instant messenger. We accessed the internet at as snails pace, but information was at our fingertips. Internet search engines were the next big thing, and I was in love. 

Almost twenty years later, my love affair with the internet is still alive and well. Although, I like to think that our relationship has matured into something deeply meaningful, exploring Google, and Wikipedia, seeking out answers to life's eternal questions. 

Last week I stumbled across the Vajrayana Institute's 7 Day Mindfulness Challenge. Having just finished a book filled with mindfulness exercises, I was ready to take on whatever 7 tasks the Vajirayana Institute had to offer. One task a day - how hard could it possibly be? 

The first email came in on Sunday afternoon. "Every time you pass through a door direct your attention to the present for a moment. Leaving your home, getting in and out of your car, into a meeting, out for lunch, visiting a friend, and returning home."

An easy one.

Ego was growing.  This assignment was not foreign to me, in fact it was nearly identical to a practice from the book that I had just finished reading. I enthusiastically flagged the email reminder for my "doors practice" to start at eight thirty on Monday morning.

Six in the morning, too darn early. I've never been a morning person. It doesn't matter what time I go to bed, my brain doesn't turn on until at least eight or nine. I was halfway into my lengthy commute before realizing, I'd forgotten about "the doors". 

Shoot. . . Doors... Remember doors. It'll be easier to remember the doors after I've had some coffee. 
 

Working through Monday morning emails, the reminder for the "doors practice" pop up. Realizing I had missed a few more doors since my arrival at the office, I plucked the purple pen from the can behind my laptop and quickly sketched an image resembling the front door of our house onto a hot pink Post-it.

The book about mindfulness had suggested placing sticky notes in obvious places as reminders. I stuck the  Post-it onto the handle of the phone.

As the morning progressed I continued to forget to notice doors. I grabbed a metallic blue marker and wrote the word doors on the underside of my ring finger. It would have been more helpful to write the note on the back of my hand, in a more obvious place, but then I would be stuck explaining my practice all day.

The remainder of my day continued in much the same fashion, only remembering about a third of the doors I entered.  This practice, though simple, ended up being much harder than I had expected. I had been over confident. 

Beginner's mind is a term commonly used in Zen. It refers to an attitude free of preconceptions, even when studying something that is at an advanced level. Like all things, it would have been beneficial for me to approach the "doors practice"  in this fashion.

Humbled, but not discouraged, I am ready for tomorrow's challenge. Hopefully I will become better at noticing doors, entering each one, leaving behind the past and becoming aware of each new moment as it arises.

Determined as I am, only time will tell.