Getting Still During Crisis: A Guided Meditation
Today, I stack my worries in a small carry on and bring them to the mat with me. I am leading Steve and Gina into a practice that calls for stillness at a time of emotional upheaval; a time of instability, where worry of family, friends, neighbors and strangers occupies our minds, leaving us to wonder what is still to come during the COVID-19 crisis.
I have lit the incense, laid the mats, stacked the blocks and am settling in to begin class. The sun rises behind me and onto my students as dawn turns to day in the rainforest where a swaying canopy surrounds the outdoor patio that is tucked atop a mountainside above Puerto Viejo. We spot soaring toucans and curious pizote’s in the garden and watch hummingbirds bathing themselves against the wet palm leaves in the early morn. The setting is ideal for stillness, for observation. But the heavy thoughts of the virus still linger. Although we are far, geographically-speaking from our home country, there is still a digital tether to the fatigue across our neighborhoods—and across the world. We receive news updates every few hours, feedback from family whose careers and studies are on hold. We observe the political mishandling of the crisis and are stuck with one constant question: What do we do?
We start from where we are.
Coming to our seats, hopeful for a meditative place to rest our worries, seemed to be the one thing we all needed. And although this guided practice is all so new to me, to be trusted with someone else’s well-being, I am settling on the emotion of gratitude to have the honor to speak at this most uncertain of times. So, for the following hour, I would guide the lovely couple—my gracious hosts for the week as I transition to a new home—to find presence within ourselves. To allow ourselves to not be OK, but to find a soft surrender, amidst a time when everything seems far from alright.
During our sit, I reference pranayama breathing exercises to begin, inviting us to ground our energy using the breath as our source for focus. From there, I let go; allowing the wisdom and teachings I have consumed to come through. For this is the magic of guiding a meditation; it is not just me leading, but allowing myself to be led to what students need and what these strange times call for.
Meditation can be described as the release of attachment to our thoughts, to those fleeting feelings that arise momentarily, and if we allow, can dissipate just as quickly. As I recently listened to Sam Harris’ meditations on his Waking Up app, he described this release of self by imagining our bodies, our egos—as formless. It resonated with me deeply as this letting go of our identity, both our physical bodies and emotional states, seemed to be the perfect invitation I needed to begin to let go; to allow myself to be formless. Far from confined and free to be fluid.
“For this is the magic of guiding a meditation; it is not just me leading but allowing myself to be led to what students need, what the room calls for in a time of unrest.”
Taking a long breath, I guide us to deeply inhale through the nose, through the upper chest and lower belly, allowing us to soar from fear and into peace; from panic to empathy, to a place of inner tranquility. To a space beneath bone that is vast and rich with the winds of the breath. I imagine the seams of where the body meets space. And stitch by stitch, I un-do my relationship to form. I visualize an inner space instead, one that is vast and velvety like the night sky. I am becoming undone, and ultimately one with the singular sounds and sensations all around me.
It is dark in this place. My meditative space often comes with the absence of light. It is as dark as the ground gets when you sink beneath earth and rock and come to the heady scent of compacted soil. I feel safe here, supported amidst the sensuality of the black earth that holds me steady. This is retreat. Where my body becomes soil and soil becomes me. My breath is no longer contained to this form. I am edgeless and not limited to skin and thought. Now, I can see the expanse that lives within each of us. This is the changeless space that goes deeper than the touch-and-go of ego or the gritty web of cerebral demand. Here, it is dark and light, a safe sky that holds all of us…both the leader and the child. Meditation brings me home, to a consistent place where changing emotions and misleading visuals are rooted only in the world above. Down here, beneath bone and soil, we can be Weightless. Timeless. Changeless.
Be nowhere, now.
And then we flicker our eyes open, stretching arms high above us, coming back into the body, back to the light of the day, where Gina and Steve and I bow towards friendship and honor this practice that has given us a home far away. Strange how easy it was to be here, and nowhere else. The brevity of the meditation had me questioning the clocks. Glancing around to see that everything was just as we left it; the sprinter’s pace of the parrots still flap above and the butterflies dance across flowers hung from the jungle drapes framing their home. We observe, taking in this human experience, and then adjusting out of our seats to prep for a rhythmic flow class led by Gina’s dynamism.
“My body craved nothing, my spirit asked to be held and suspended in time, not to be flooded with response but instead sent to repose.”
Meditation can be a retreat from wherever you are in the world. Especially for those of you navigating this new Work From Home life and those entertaining their young kids now full-time and to those seeking ways to maintain an income during this pause in economy. It might not be a fix-all, but this time spent in stillness and away from worrying the bone and opting towards panic could be a break for a moment to know how to best move forward through this epidemic. So, let us sit with our heavy luggage, allowing ourselves to hold space for both fear and hope. Allow yourself to dig into the earth and tether yourself to the ground, to stabilize within self so that you may be an example for others to find their roots, too.
This video below was originally meant to be a yoga flow, a Vinyasa Hatha class, that would allow us to move alongside one another to shake up the thoughts and stuck energy we hold. But as I sat in stillness, it became clear that movement was not necessary, instead, my body craved nothing, my spirit asked to be held and suspended in time—not to be flooded with response but instead sent to repose. This was my teaching and I welcome you to come join me for yours. Please allow yourself to make space for clarity, now more than ever, despite all fear and frustration, so that creative solutions and peaceful responses can lead our actions.
Liv.