Yesterday I was on BART (the San Francisco bay area’s subway system), ironically on my way to a yoga immersion self-discovery workshop in San Francisco. I say "ironically" because about halfway there, I tuned into my thoughts (or, one voice among them) and was surprised by what I heard.

Meditation in action

First, a note about meditation. I’ve been doing it for almost two years now – daily for a year – and I still find it to be a major drag. Quieting my mind is, well, impossible, and while I’ve been told time and again that that’s not the “point,” it still frustrates the bejeezus out of me. The first part of my meditation is spent doing a grounding ritual – a simple visualization that need take no more than a few seconds – and sometimes it takes the full twenty minutes to get even that done, so frequently and consistently do my thoughts pull me away from my intention.

Anyway, when I caught myself thinking yesterday, I did feel a moment of … well, triumph is too strong a word, but it did assure me that the practice of watching my thoughts for 20 minutes a day in meditation (I’ve been advised to sit longer than that for maximum benefit, but gahhh!) has gradually put me in the practice of watching them even in times when I’m not sitting, which I suppose is kind of the “point.” Or, one of them.  

Watching

Long ago, I stopped bringing books and iPods on trains and to airports when I realized I do no more than pretend to read as I observe people’s comings and goings, their clothes and their belongings, what must be their thoughts and their stories. And having earphones in prevents me from eavesdropping on their conversations. It’s like going to a play and bringing your own entertainment – you miss the show.

So yesterday, as I sat by the window of the relatively empty first car of the train, I settled into my seat and began watching. That’s when I started to hear myself:

Um, nice Coach fanny pack, there, buddy.

Really with the socks dude? Do you think you’re going to get deep vein thrombosis on the subway?

Damn. She can’t be more than 17. Baby boy’s to have an interesting life.

That’s okay, don’t move any faster. Nobody behind you needs to get off the train today.

Look up from your iPhone and you might see the world. Then again, you might realize your life’s all wrong, so maybe distraction is the best thing.

Oh my god. As I heard them, each thought was a followed by a harsh admonishment of myself to stop being such a judgmental biznatch. I mean, aren’t I a life coach dedicated to helping people see the truth in themselves? Aren’t I part of a community whose fundamental premise is the use of magical eyes (even on the subway)? Don’t I strive to be compassionate and kind above anything else? What in the blazes am I doing?

Staying safe

I examined the thoughts for the few final minutes of the ride – traced their origins back to a time when I was, if not encouraged, then certainly not reproved for thinking them. I thought about my privileged upbringing in safe communities where we insulated ourselves from the world so well that we often turned this finely-tuned skill on each other without even realizing it. Nobody was spared; everyone was other.

Truly, though, the “whys” are irrelevant. Strip that all away and I’m left with the fact that my separateness kept – and keeps – me safe. Safe from what? Who knows … rejection, pain, the possibility of revealing something too personal, physical harm … could be any number of things. But it wasn’t until the thought was examined that I understood that I was defending myself at all. Just the night before in conversation I’d asserted that I was an utterly open book – that what you see is what you get.

Ha. Thanks universe. Thanks meditation.

Release

Thus was the baggage I carried to the workshop where, at the end, we were invited to release into a powerful circle of humans that which no longer served us. In went my judgments and unnecessary thoughts. I released all about myself that used to be to make way for all that is to come. I am grateful for that short train ride that brought this particular old way to the surface for me to converse and dance with.

Riding home a few hours later, the train car was packed full of humanity: a situation ripe for judgment. Not only were there hundreds of potential targets, but the circumstance itself made for a cranky, uncomfortable half-hour journey. And yet every conversation I overheard was fascinating. I witnessed kindness all over the place – people doing their best to make way for one another. A beautiful smile transformed the face of an otherwise sad and weary woman when we made eye contact. A screaming baby made me giggle, not cringe. Maybe it was the workshop, maybe it was the beer I had with a friend right after. Maybe I was just too tired after such a packed afternoon to raise my internal barbs.

Whatever it was, it was new, and I liked the way it felt. I’m sure I’m not rid of this voice – one that was long ago hardwired into my system to “protect” me (surely it’s related to – if not part of – my own inner critic), but we’re exploring a new relationship. I’m eager to say what I hear myself saying next time. And I guess I won’t stop sitting either. Looks like it’s doing some good after all.

How aware are you of what you think? What do or can you do to cultivate this awareness? What unconscious behavior might be influencing your life? What are you ready to release?

Seeing past the judge,
Joy