on meditating for dummies

Radiance Sutra 81

Drop the thought,

“I am this body.”

Abandon the limitation,

“I am only here in this specific place and time.”

Embrace instead,

I am not my body.

I am not this place.

I am not this time.

There is no place.

There is no time.

Realize,

I am everywhere,

Sustained by infinite bliss.

It’s really funny that meditation has such peaceful connotations, because it is actually one of the most difficult and scariest activities I have ever attempted. By “meditation,” I’m referring here to the classic practice of sitting-your-bum-on-a-cushion-and-breathing, which is an entirely different beast from meditation’s other forms. I regularly, and happily, practice moving meditations: yoga and walking almost always help to quiet my inner monologue (which, contrary to my exterior self, really doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up) in a way that feels natural and easy. Artistic meditation, too – that I can do. When reading, or writing, or listening to music or baking a batch of cookies, I’ve always been able to fall into a trance. These are the only moments in which I am completely unaware of the clock; the only times when I am finally unaware of my body.

But just sitting, just breathing, just hoping – or, worse, expecting – that I will stop talking to myself? That feels impossible. I can’t even fall asleep in less than an hour. I consider savasana – corpse pose – one of the more challenging poses of my yoga practice. How could I possibly keep quiet long enough to meditate?

But then I came across this sutra through my beloved yoga studio, which hosted Lorin Roche for a weekend workshop. His book, The Radiance Sutras, is an updated translation of the Vijnana Bhairava Tantra, an ancient Sanskrit collection of 112 meditations. The overall text is framed by an interaction between the god Shiva and his consort Shakti, with each, alternating deity professing a sutra to the other lover.

I’d had no idea what the Vijnana Bhairava Tantra was, or who Lorin Roche was, before I read yogapata’s blog. But as I read Lorin’s version of Sutra 81, I felt overcome by an uncanny sense of familiarity: it was like I’d already known these words, like they were inside of me, always, and here they were, gorgeously articulated onto the page. 

It all made so much sense: I am not my body, I am not my stuff, I am not my clothing or my apartment or my choice of perfume. I am more, and I am less, all at once. But this meditation, using the text’s narrative frame, arranged my jumbled feelings into more eloquent and universal terms than my objective standpoint could ever hope to do. 

I’ve found myself chanting these lines throughout my day. Their serene, but rapturous, beauty has replaced the Distillers and the Descendants running on a loop in my head (I’m going through an old school pop-punk thing right now), providing a comforting and useful soundtrack to my daily tasks. 

You guys, I swear I'm not a hippie. But, true to its nature as a mantra, Radiance Sutra 81 has become more to me than a combination of pleasing words, or a brilliant modern translation of an ancient text: it’s become a surprisingly easy step towards practicing a kinder and more mindful way of life. And even - lo and behold - a kinder and more approachable form of daily meditation.

(Photo by Danielle Goldstein. Again.)