Taking Meditation Seriously

Big barn in a snow shower

Today is an adventure for me, and for Maria. We are heading off  Saturday before dawn to a meditation study center in Vermont, run by Zen Buddhists. I am reading about meditation, talking to writers and practioners. Even talked to a psychiatrist about it, and he recommended the center where we are going, in the most bitter cold.

There are lots of different theories about meditation, many books,  lots of different ways to do it. I am going to learn how to quiet my mind, find the pieceful, undamaged and calm part of me, if there is such a thing.

I have  been working on this for nearly a year, and not getting where I would like to get. So another adventure, another exploration of something I would not have considered a year or so ago. I do not expect that meditation will change me, or alter my consciousness. Nor am I especially interested in that. I went to Quaker Meeting for years, and am a Quaker still, although I haven’t been to Meeting in some time. I experienced some extraordinary spiritual and meditative experiences in the Meetings, and I have a taste of it.  I want to work on centering, and becoming more aware of my mind, who I am. I will report back, of course. It will be an all day teaching and learning experience. Vegetarian lunch, of course, is served.

Thinking of Elvis

I woke up thinking about Elvis this morning. My 3,000 lb Swiss Steer who left the farm a year ago, and went to feed the homeless in Glens Falls, N.Y. He was here for three years, and I miss him sometimes. He was a good sweet soul and we spent a lot of companionable time together.

It was madness to have two steers and a cow, an odd symbol of my dementia and delusion at the time. I couldn’t afford it, and caring for all of those animals overwhelmed me, a man who is at heart a writer, not really a farmer. Elvis was headed for slaughter, and I spared him that. His legs were starting to go, and there is no way to treat an animal that size that is feasible. One day he would have just keeled over and not been able to get up, and that would have been a nightmare I wanted to spare both of us.

Still, he was a great guy. I loved his equanimity. He loved to drool on me, eat my hats pick me up by the hood of my sweatshirt and dangle me around. He was a good guy and I’m glad he had a good run here. Lots of apples, chocolate donuts. I don’t think of him every day but I do miss going out to the pasture, reading a book alongside of him as we grazed out over the beautiful valley below the farm.

As a rule, I don’t really value nostalgia. Think it’s the refuge of minds wanting to escape the present and the future. The past is not always better than the present, not for me, and I would rather look ahead than back, given the choice. But I don’t want to forget Elvis. He was important to me. He taught me a lot. I am glad he got a few easy years. Many people were quite angry to learn that he was sent to his death, but I have no apologies for that. Steers don’t go to assisted care facilities, and while I don’t regret the thousands of dollars I spent caring for him, I don’t think it was done in reality, either.

Just thinking of the big doof.