Meditating in Monroe

June 2, 2010

I've been very slow to write this next update. Perhaps it's a reaction to finally having finished all the papers for school. What a relief! In the meantime, experiences have been accumulating.

When I first moved to Seattle in February, my friend Katie invited me to attend a day-long meditation session May 8 at Monroe Correctional Centre for men where she had been volunteering. She has been working with an organization called Freedom Project that runs courses in mindfulness and in Non-Violent Communication for the prisoners. I was intrigued by the opportunity, so submitted my security application. Over the next couple months, the bureaucratic procedure gradually unfolded and eventually I was granted permission by the prison authorities to attend.

The week before the session, Ruby, the organizer, sent a flurry of emails outlining all the rules and guidelines that we would need to follow -- what to bring (lunch, ID), what not to bring (no metal, and definitely nothing sharp), what not to wear (clothing has to be ultra-modest), what to expect, etc. Carpools were organized, agendas outlined.

May 8 finally arrived. I packed my lunch, dressed carefully, grabbed a water bottle, and decided to leave everything else behind. It seemed safer not to try to haul around a wallet or other gear -- travel light! When Ruby arrived to pick me up, I was ready. We set out to meet the other women -- six of us all together -- and drove northeast out of the city to the small town of Monroe.

The correctional centre was on the edge of the town, the first turnoff as we drove in. Piling out of the car, Ruby did a final check that we weren't bringing anything we shouldn't, and had everything we needed. Everyone got their ID? Whoops.

I'd neglected to do a final run through the checklist, and in my zeal to be ready early and travel light had not brought my passport or driver's license. What to do? Some ideas were bandied around, but the upshot was that I would not be able to get into the prison for the day's session. Well, I had planned to have a day of meditation, and that's what I would do. I said my goodbyes for the day to the other women as they left to run the session, and set out for a solo meditation day in Monroe.

How often have you been somewhere unfamiliar alone with no money and nothing to do for the day? Carrying my lunch, I did a walking meditation down the main street of Monroe, two miles past car dealerships, funeral homes, dentists' offices, and finally through the quaint old downtown core. I stopped at a gas station to fill my water bottle and use the restroom.

At the end of Main Street, I turned right and wandered down a small street to a wooded park. A little bridge spanned a small river. I stood on the side overlooking the water, and then made my way down to some rocks where I sat and meditated, watching the river run. So much time seemed to loom before me. I noticed my tendency to want to fill it with doing something, and kept sitting there.

An hour and a half later, I climbed back up the bank and found a picnic table where I ate my lunch. A sunny spot on the lawn looked inviting. I lay down and napped. How sweet to rest on the grass. After an hour's rest, I walked again, following a path through the woods along the river to an abandoned railway track raised on wooden stilts. I followed the track back to where it bridged another portion of the river. A passing trio of teenagers welcomed me, telling me that this was one of their favourite places to hang out. They made their way further into the woods. I took their advice and sat on a solid portion of the railway bridge, watching the river for another hour or two. Now that I had slowed down inside, I was no longer checking my watch or wondering what to do next. It felt easy to just be there.

I had been feeling alone and unanchored coming to this day. We are so defined by our work and our relationships with others. Being single and unemployed, I have sometimes questioned whether I have value in this world. My tendency is to distract myself with schoolwork, social interactions, etc. Through this day alone in silence, I sat with those feelings instead: Just me, walking, sitting, eating, napping, watching. Somehow that seemed like enough. Somehow, perhaps each of us just as we are is enough.

River

How happy I am!
and I grab the moment tightly,
cling to it as to a rock in whitewater
while time beats
against me, trying
to drag me
on.

Holding tightly,
so scared to leave these memories.
The whitewater batters,
the rock scrapes,
pain
pain
pain

Until my strength gives way,
I let go,
the water
carries me,
cradles me
past new scenery --
rocks, underbrush,
a slow bend
in the river,
then swift
shallows in
sunshine,
flowers,
small
birds
singing.

On and
on it
goes.

Such
beauty.

Such
peace.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.