Meditation seems to have hit the mainstream. My social media news feed is now filled with shared articles about the benefits of mediation. A segment on 60 Minutes showed congressmen taking meditation breaks to relax and focus. Even my mom hopped on the meditation bandwagon. So I decided to join my mom at her weekly meditation class and see what all the fuss is about. Here's a recap of my first encounter with mindfulness.
The Kadampa Center looks relatively bland from the outside, located in a quiet shopping center filled with offices and vacant space, but upon closer inspection that you find colorful statues and flags. The center is a non-profit used for practices in Tibetan Buddhist mindfulness meditation, or "mind-science."
The first thing I noticed was that everyone at the Kadampa Center smiles. The man who greets me at the door has a smile that reaches every part of his lightly bearded face. The woman behind the counter in the gift shop grins quietly as she surveys the room. When I take off my shoes and enter the meditation room, a short middle-aged man bows cheerily to every passerby. Welcome to Meditation 101.
The first thing I noticed was that everyone at the Kadampa Center smiles. The man who greets me at the door has a smile that reaches every part of his lightly bearded face. The woman behind the counter in the gift shop grins quietly as she surveys the room. When I take off my shoes and enter the meditation room, a short middle-aged man bows cheerily to every passerby. Welcome to Meditation 101.
Vibrant tapestries depicting the Buddha cover the otherwise standard white walls of the room. Strings of mini Tibetan prayer flags symbolizing luck, happiness, compassion, prosperity and health hang throughout the ceiling. Cushioned chairs form rows outlining the center of the room where long maroon cushions line the floor for people who prefer to meditate cross-legged. The chairs and cushions all face the front of the room where the Buddhist equivalent of an altar sits, overflowing with candles, flowers and countless statues of the Buddha. Pictures of the Dalai Lama line the wall behind the altar area where two large figures with multiple heads and arms sit among even more flowers and candles. The area of wall left uncovered by pictures or tapestries holds hundreds of cloth-enclosed books – all the teachings of Buddhism.
I took a seat in a chair directly behind the area of people sitting on the floor and began to peruse the crowd, an interesting mix to be sure. I couldn’t see his face, but the man sitting on the floor in front of me wore a fitted t-shirt with the message “NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE” and had a the word “MONSTER” tattooed on the back of his shaved head. Two girls in their early twenties sat next to me giggling back and forth while motioning animatedly with their hands. Couples of all ages trickled through the door, pointing to the colorful decorations and making sure to grab an informational pamphlet on the way in.
The instructor introduced himself as David Machles and sat with his legs expertly crossed facing the crowd of about fifty people (a “surprisingly large turnout,” he noted). His short gray hair was thinning and behind his glasses was a pair of friendly eyes that seemed to close entirely as he laughed. The first twenty minutes of class were spent making introductions and partaking in the customary social banter of introductions.
Before our first meditation, David instructed us to form the proper position – if you’re in a chair, sit with your feet flat on the floor and straighten your spine, “like a stack of quarters.” We began to count our breaths and sense the air entering and leaving our bodies.
“Imagine that you are inhaling bright, white light and visualize this good light entering your bloodstream and every cell of your being,” said Machles in a calm voice. Next was the body scan. Starting with our toes and moving slowly up the body we “released tension.” He reminded us that if our mind wanders, “gently bring it back.” He chimed a bell to signal an end to the meditation, which he said lasted three minutes.
“Are there any questions or concerns about our first exercise?”
Five hands immediately shot up. How exactly am I suppose to release tension in my toes? I started to feel dizzy, is that normal? Is there such a thing as too focused? What if I can’t keep my feet still? Unruffled by the bombardment of questions and comments, Machles answered each question thoughtfully.
“Try imagining your body filling with air, like a balloon rising into the atmosphere,” he told one woman.
He ended class with one homework assignment: be happy.
