As a Dharma practitioner and a writer, I'm mindful of how language influences how we experience our interconnected world. For too long, I let language like 'sit' and 'upright posture' make me believe there is a 'right way' to meditate. I believed that other positions were inferior and should be avoided unless absolutely necessary. My brain used to start up narratives of unworthiness when a teacher described the "ideal" way to meditate, knowing that no matter how much I tried to stay upright like a string was holding my spine straight, my pain levels would never lessen. When I talked with a teacher or meditation instructor about pain, we talked across one another without realising it.
I would say, “I’m trying to work with the pain.”
I wouldn’t say: The longer I sit, the longer I am in this upright posture that is meant to lead to clarity, to composure, to enlightenment, the more the muscles in my back burn with icy fire. The longer I sit, the more the muscles in my neck, which are working twice as hard, making up for elongated tendons, get stuck in a contraction. This contraction pulls at the vertebrae, sliding it ever so slightly out of place, pinching them. The throbbing in my hips can go unnoticed in the wake of the acute pain in head and neck and spine, until I stand up of course. All these things combined mean that after forty minutes or an hour of sitting, when the gong is rung and we have bowed and risen and left the cushion, I will still be in pain. When we have moved on to clean the bathrooms or prepare a meal, I will still be in pain. When we sit down to eat, blessing the food before digging in, I will still be in pain.
The teacher/instructor/guide, thinking only of the pain that might arise while meditating, the pain that is more temporary discomfort from being in one position for a time than constant companion, would say, “Oh yes! Pain! Look for it and it can’t be found! It’s intangible! Illusory! Rest your mind on it, notice how it skips around, how it disappears.”
I would smile, nod, thank them for their guidance. I would tell myself to try harder next time. I would tell myself I would find how illusory pain is. I didn’t realise we weren’t talking about the same quality of pain.
I wouldn’t say: Pain is almost always with me. It is there in muscles that have to work more than they were made to and in joints that slide out of alignment. I can sit in meditation feeling my muscles aching, finding the pain easily. It’s where my mind goes anytime someone guides a body-scan. It does not disappear when I rest my mind on it. It intensifies. It warns: You will have a migraine if the session goes for more than forty minutes. Your knees and hips are going to ache and be painful to walk on if the only option is to sit cross-legged. You are going to have to take painkillers to ease the burning ache along your spine that will last the rest of the day and into the night, keeping you awake if you don’t drug yourself heavily with a combination of muscle relaxants, ibuprofen, and CBD.
I’ve had to reckon with the sense that I'm a 'bad practitioner' because I can't see pain as an illusion.
I’ve had to reckon with the limited perception abled language creates about what is a disability and who is Disabled.
I’ve had to reckon with how I’ve been trained to hide pain, to compare it to others in order to minimize the validity of my own experience, to think that my experience cannot and should not be trusted unless a medical professional says it’s true.
I’ve had to reckon with internalized ableism and the belief that it would be too complicated to give meditation instruction that accommodates all bodies. I thought it would mean listing all the ways a person could be meditating eg. If you are lying down... in a wheelchair... sitting on a chair... etc.
Now I realise inclusion is not about ticking boxes but acknowledging the essence of why we meditate. Instruction for meditation should speak to the quality of presence in mind and body, regardless of posture.
"Take a position in which you feel connected and present in your body, and aware of your connection to the Earth."
"Feel how it is to ground to the Earth beneath us. No matter where you are right now, the Earth is holding you."
"Notice the way the breath travels through your body."
This brings me back to a teaching I have carried with me for years: The technique is not the practice.
There is not some ideal embodiment for waking up. Ancient texts may presume that to be male is superior, or to be hearing or to not be missing any limbs gives one an advantage on the cushion. And yet, and yet…I look around and ‘enlightened’ is not the term I would use for someone with so-called perfect posture, a cisman or ciswoman, racialized white, abled, afforded a life of ease through financial resources. Indeed, the socially upheld ‘ideal’ embodiments seem to entrap us in ignorance, in attachment, in aggressive defensiveness.
Liberation is not found by being born into comfort on samsara’s terms.
I’ve had to step lightly into claiming my body’s truth; my nerves are lit and my tendons are too long, I get head rushes daily, and my heart sometimes drops an extra beat. In learning to trust my own experience, I gain confidence in speaking the truth of my body to others. I no longer think of it as ‘lying down’ meditation or ‘sitting in a chair’ meditation. It is meditation, no matter what position I’m in.
In listening to what my body needs, compassionately, I create the conditions to be with my mind. When I’m fully present with my mind it teaches me how to better listen to my body. And when I do this for myself, I’m better able to recognize the ultimate through the relative. I am better able to serve. To alleviate suffering starting right here in this body. To connect with joy. To move towards liberation.
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