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June 2, 2015

How I Tackled the Chronic Voices in my Mind.

Mosque

My first real meditation experience came about five years ago when I was studying for my yoga certification in India, which required two hours of daily sitting.

The morning was spent consistently nodding off, and the evening was all about chasing my inner voices on whimsical adventures and self-loathing critique sessions, or zoning out into pretty psychedelic visions. I had always been a day- dreamer and could sit still for hours and keep myself entertained, so if this was meditation I was a pro.

Of course this wasn’t at all meditation, as the idea of me was so interwoven with my thoughts and vision that I couldn’t identify what a thought even was. Until I disconnected the unchangeable me from the tricky ego that thought it was me, I was just running the same tracks in my head over and over.

It was only last year at a Tibetan Monastery in Dharmsala, India that my friend meditation and I went all the way. 

And I can honestly say that if I had not committed to that 10-day silent retreat, I would still be in meditative purgatory, vacillating between visionary bliss-land and mental merry-go-rounds. 

The ego wants to keep our minds forever busy on the next thing, or the last thing, or some other thing. It ruminates and obsesses and calculates and plans. It uses so much energy on externals but rarely turns within, as it is actually terrified to look at deeper thoughts and feelings. That is how that little ego stays alive and strong. 

A healthy ego serves an important purpose in our day-to-day experiences; it is a buffer and translator for our inner world. But with the near-sighted ego as our boss, the darkness it avoids creates haunting, debilitating shadows.

To create presence within and shine it on all the scariest holes, we must dive right in for a visit.

For me, diving in took an intensive retreat after some very challenging times in my life when I was pretty shattered and defense-less. But still, diving face-first into the mess inside wasn’t easy. At one point during this silence when I’d been sitting all day and eating bland food, or perhaps hungry from not enough food, my thoughts and feelings and discomforts became so compulsive, abrasive and painful that it felt like it was just them and me in a ring, circling each other like lions.  

But that was victory number one! I was able to see my thoughts and feelings and sensations for what they were: predatory, cyclical and completely separate from the real me who was doing battle in that ring. I learned that fighting didn’t work, but that the real me witnessing them decreased their power. Everything I’d suppressed came to the surface: ugly things; painful things; beautiful things. Sometimes I was in bliss and sometimes I was outright enraged. I didn’t believe I was doing it right, as often I felt more insane than I did clear, but no matter what came up, I was present to look at it. 

The moment I finally “saw the light” was painful, too, like ripping my consciousness from everything I had perceived it to be. I heard a thought as a caricature of my own voice and, just as I heard that voice, another one arose, and then another. Feelings came behind them, attached like little shadows. Or sometimes it was a feeling first, followed by a thought. 

There were many “mes!” But not me. I knew this because I had begun to watch them from a long way off, playing out like a drama on a stage. It was like a cruel cosmic joke. How long had I been buying into all this? Were those voices full of sh*t, or was there some wisdom in there? What about my feelings, the precious emotions that I often follow around on a leash? I like those! And what now? Should I just dismiss them? Will life even feel real without them?

I was finally hearing the many pieces of my consciousness that had been over-indulged, disregarded or locked up. My mediation wasn’t about rising above or dismissing anything as unreal and illusory; it was about making friends, inviting the voices inside for tea and cakes with the real me. The part we all share that shines a light on everything, every single thing, and yet still doesn’t change. 

Feeling all the vulnerable little soft spots and seeing the dark holes and ugly qualities inside me with a deepest level of compassion was the sexiest part of my meditation experience. And that is the heart of the matter, because by training myself to accept all of it, I could start to live in full honor of the dark and light for exactly what they are: part of this rich and varied human experience that we’ve all signed up for.

That was my meditation retreat: the best rehab I can recommend.  If you feel called to give it a try for yourself, they are often done by donation, so money shouldn’t be the deciding factor. I know it isn’t possible for everyone to take 10 days for this kind of experience, and maybe your meditation practice is already deeply grounded—but for whatever reason I was pretty stubborn and resistant, and my ego with all her thoughts and emotions needed to be broken like a wild horse. 

My main takeaway: I am not my thoughts, my sensations or my feelings. I am not them and they are not me but they are a crucial part of this particular me, at this particular time, and if I can distance myself enough to read them correctly, they leave important clues as to how to bring my being into harmony. 

My thoughts, feelings and sensations provide a map outlining my longer life journey, and it is the job of my consciousness to be clear enough to decipher that map and set off with courage. Because all the many “mes” have a purpose—even my dirty little ego and my bloody little wounds and my jagged little scars—and only with humility and compassion can I loosen their control on my life. 

Beyond that, what I really am is far more expansive and yet far simpler than anything I could consciously describe.   

~

Author: Meghan Coleman

Editor: Caroline Beaton

Photo: Author’s own

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