Today I was at Appamada Zen Center before 8 am, and I left at 5 pm. This is the first time I’ve done a one-day sitting. I feel jazzed about it! I will do this again!

We started with the regular Sunday morning service–30 minutes of group zazen followed by 10 minutes of kinhin (walking meditation). Repeat these a couple of times. Then a reading and discussion.

The reading was about anatta, the nature of the non-self. Buddha characterized the self as a stream, constantly changing.

After the service, there was a tea break for those of us staying for the one-day meditation (about a dozen people). Then we did 30 minutes of zazen, then another half hour of chores. I brushed the dust and dirt of each of the zafus while others vacuumed the zabutons, damp-mopped, swept, weeded outside, etc.

Then zazen again, followed by lunch, a mid-afternoon tea break, a question and answer period, with more zazen and kinhin in between.

At practice inquiry during the morning service, I had asked Peg about sitting all day. She advised me to sit with my sit bones at the very front edge of the zafu and recommended placing a small flat pillow under the back of the zafu to give it more height. Then she advised sitting with my pelvis slightly tilted forward to allow my back to relax into its natural lumbar curve.

So I did. At each zazen, I switched the top leg in half-Lotus and also sat in the seiza style (sit bones on a cushion with calves under thighs).

I lost track of how many times I did zazen today–maybe 6? And 10 minutes of kinhin maybe 5 times? At no time did we sit for more than 30 minutes straight, so I’m guessing I spent a total of about 3 hours on the zafu and close to another hour in kinhin.

I did some yoga during the lunch break–vinyasas of down dog, plank, cobra. It woke me up and probably made my afternoon easier.

I was the only new person attending this one-day sitting. During the Q&A, pain was the topic. It seems you never get away from it completely.

Although I certainly have had issues while meditating–in my sacrum area, with adhesions in my thighs, with one leg falling asleep–those have become less of a problem after 3.5 months of sitting daily.

Today I noticed a little “glitch” in my spine in the middle of my thoracic vertebrae, and early, my left foot got crampy and just did not want to go on top in half-Lotus. Later it was fine. And that’s about it.

Someone relayed a story that Flint had asked during his studies why we do this–sit with pain. The response was to have empathy with those whose pain does not end when the bell rings.

Someone else stated that pain is inevitable, but suffering is the story you tell yourself about pain that keeps you experiencing it.

I noticed at breaks that there was a natural silence among the participants. I noticed that I felt very relaxed and content. My mind was in the immersed,  present state. During breaks, I walked aimlessly around in the yard, looking at plants, and I sat in the study and looked at the books on the shelves and out the window.

This is experiencing the non-seeking mind. Others appeared to be experiencing this state as well.

So. Life happens one day at a time. If I can do one day of sitting, I can do multiple days. When the time is right, I imagine I will have that experience.

I was thinking this evening of how meditation has been  helpful to me and who meditation can help. I  know many people (all meditators, of course!) believe everyone should meditate.

Perhaps at some point one becomes so skilled at meditation that it becomes a state of awareness from which one lives. I notice I’m getting more that way with yoga, doing cat-cow at red lights and spinal twists after sitting at my desk for awehile. I don’t really plan it or think about it. It’s instinct, a reflex now.

There are prerequisites for meditation, like the ability to be still and silent while awake, the capacity to pay attention, the courage to notice what is and just be with it, and the diligence to do these things over and over and over again, day after day after day.

In my 4 years of meditation experience, it seems to me that meditation is helpful when:

• you want or need to get centered in your own life
• you are bored with your life
• you are going through a lot of change
• you sense change coming and  you want to be prepared
• you want to change but you don’t know what to change or how
• you feel stressed
• you or someone you are close to is having difficulty with life
• you’d like to get more familiar with your whole self
• you’d like to get more familiar with aspects of yourself, such as the connection between your thoughts and emotions, or become aware of stress earlier
• you are willing to experience your own suffering instead of numbing out
• you are willing to at least sometimes separate your story from your actual experience
• you love peace and quiet
• you would like to discover the bliss of emptiness

Any readers want to chime in on who should/should not meditate and when meditation is helpful?

Tonight I did a little yoga, cat-cow, a few vinyasas, pigeon, a spinal twist.

Then I lit two candles on my little altar, bowed to my zafu, sat down, set the timer, and got into meditatin’ position–half lotus with right leg on top tonight, sit bones grounded on zafu, pelvis level, spine arising from pelvis, head tipped slightly forward, tip of tongue on palate, eyes closed, right hand lying in left hand, thumb tips touching. Aaaaannnnndddd…breathe.

I’m getting more formal about this practice. For years, I just set the timer and sat. Now, bowing to my zafu is nice. No matter how I feel about doing it at any given time, sitting on that zafu is the real teacher. Not the altar, not the bust of Kwan Yin on it, or the candles, or the mala beads. Sitting is the buddha.

Sometimes I really hate it, especially when it’s late and I’ve forgotten to sit, and I remember just when I’m thinking of going to bed, “Oh, I haven’t meditated yet, and I made this crazy vow to sit for 30 minutes every day. What was I thinking?”

And then I just go ahead and do it, dragging my resentment to the zafu with me.

Inevitably, whatever emotion I’m carrying eventually dissipates. I experience moments of clean, clear, sparkling emptiness.

And then when the timer goes off, I do a seated bow. Then I unwind my legs and make my feet like windshield wipers and move my spine.

Then I get up and face the zafu and bow again.