“This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune…”
-from The World Is Too Much With Us, by William Wordsworth
I feel ‘out of tune,’ perhaps in the same way that Wordsworth means in his poem. But the world feels out of tune, too. Sometimes the world is too much, motherhood is too much, the media is too much, my own anxiety and worry is too much.
But the answer is never to just run away. Sometimes I think the answer is just to simplify, and sometimes that is the best answer. But sometimes diving straight into the complexity is best. I remember a West African drumming class I took at Cabrillo Community College, where we learned and played mesmerizing, syncopated rhythms. The instructor explained that through drumming and learning to hold down a beat against the other offbeats that seemed to pull us off course, we learned to dance with the complexities of life and to stay strong in our own rhythm when other rhythms around us seemed to run counter to ours.
Music may have been the first way I really (indirectly, almost accidentally) experienced a meditative state. Beautiful music is not just a bare naked beat or simplified melody - most often it is layers of harmony, melody, and rhythm and what matters is where we place our focus and how we hold it all.
So, meditation for me is no about emptying my mind, but noticing the complexity around and within me, then choosing how I take it all in, and what I put back out into the world.
I most recently revisited this idea in a childbirth class with my doula. She mentioned some techniques from the book Birthing from Within by Pam England and Rob Horowitz. We were discussing pain coping techniques and she guided us through some of the techniques. The one that really worked well for me is called Non-Focused Awareness (NFA). In a nutshell: sit quietly, eyes open. Focus on your breath, notice what you see around you. Notice what you hear both near and far; observe how your body feels as it rests on the ground, chair, or whatever surface you’re on. Take note of any smells that come to you. Observe any tastes lingering in your mouth.
The main thing with NFA is just noticing all the little details without labeling. How hard that can be! How quickly the mind goes to deciding whether or not it likes or dislikes something, or tries to analyze a strange sound or smell. But it can be so freeing to just observe your surroundings with all your senses apart from all the mental commentary that tends to sneak in.
So, this type of meditative awareness is all about taking in the fullness of the moment as it is, without extra elaboration from your mind. It’s a way of being where you are without jumping to conclusions.
Momlife is full and chaotic, and in the exhaustion of it all, it’s so easy to label certain things as good or bad. Tantrums, bad; sticking to a daily schedule, good; leaving the dishes in the sink overnight, bad; birthing your baby with no medical interventions, good.
But...sometimes tantrums are just signs that we are pushing our kids too much and they’re tired, or sticking to a daily schedule can keep us from discovering new things. Beating ourselves up to do all the dishes every night takes away from quality time with the family, and sometimes medical interventions are called for in a birth. It all depends.
The main thing is, sensing how each situation affects our internal state. Are we frantic, frustrated, and stressed? Or are we calm, appreciative, and joyful? How do we take in life’s events and situations, and what kind of vibe do we put out every day?
What kind of effect do we have on ourselves and each other?
But back to the African drumming: this past year has been full of so many twists and turns, in my own family and in the world in general, starting with an episode of anxiety attacks my husband suffered that somehow cascaded into a move from California to Chicago. Shortly after that move, I got pregnant and halfway through that, we entered into this COVID-19 pandemic. And now, this whole resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement. It seems like life is spinning out of control, but the reality is, things are always uncertain, it’s just that that uncertainty is more obvious these days.
The drumming, the idea of holding down a beat against other rhythms that seem to run counter to us, but then we realize: it’s all part of the same song. If you step back and listen and watch without judging which rhythm is right or wrong, better or worse, you sense a song that is funky, edgy, up and down, but somehow united as one thing.
So on this full moon, perhaps the last full moon before my son is born, I begin to understand this idea of layers of rhythms that seem chaotic; I start to glean the meaning of how we humans all come together in each moment, each with different rhythms, angles, voices and views and it’s one united thing called humanity. I usually don’t fully understand it but I take it in with curiosity and hopefully, respond to it with love and compassion.
The trick with playing those syncopated rhythms - and any piece of collaborative music in general - is to listen at the same time you contribute your own sounds. Amongst all this crap going on in the world, listening is just as important as making your voice heard.
That is my yoga right now. Listening, and not just listening but doing it with love, compassion, patience, and faith in the ultimate goodness of humankind.