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MY SPIRITUAL SELF

Cindy Maddera

10 Likes, 0 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "View from a swing"

I used to have a fairly regular meditation practice. I would even attend a Buddhist meditation service once a week. This was way back when we still lived with Chris’s mom, before I flipped our lives into moving chaos. The meditation practice came to a screeching halt when Chris got sick and it never recovered. Sitting still with my thoughts is very very difficult. There was a long time when I couldn’t even be in savasana. As long as I kept moving in my yoga practice, everything was A-okay. Stopping for a final relaxation moment was torture. I got over that. Kind of. I will admit that more often than not, I end up dozing off in savasana. If I was one of my students, we would be having a discussion about sleep management and bedtimes. I’d have to explain to myself that I have a very reasonable bedtime. I just don’t always stay asleep.

There have been attempts to regain my meditation practice, but it just never sticks. I’ve made excuses and declared that mindfully chopping vegetables for dinner is my meditation act of the day. So I decided that if I was going to resolve to do anything in 2020, it would be to re-establish my meditation practice. Chris will be gone seven years in February. It’s time I learned to sit still with those thoughts and other thoughts not necessarily related to Chris. So I set my alarm clock for 5 AM (my usual wake up time is 5:50) and placed the new journal my Mom bought me for Christmas on the nightstand. Monday morning, when that alarm went off, I rolled over and hit the snooze button on the alarm. Fifteen minutes later, when the alarm sounded again, I moved to hit the snooze button again, but just turned the alarm off instead. I laid there for a minute deciding what to do next. Going back to sleep was a bad idea because it would just make getting up on time more difficult. So I propped up my pillows and sat up in my bed and set my meditation timer for twenty minutes.

Here’s what went down in those twenty minutes:

Should I rearrange my bedroom? What if I moved my bed over to that wall? Would it even fit there? If I moved the bed there would I still be able to open my closet door? If I move the bed to that wall, then I would have to move the giant elephant brass band poster to that wall over there. How many holes would I have to patch in the wall? Can I move this furniture on my own? I should probably measure the bed and space before I try to move it. Is this room square or rectangular? It looks rectangular, but that could be an optical illusion from the way I’m sitting. I really need a tape measure. If I move my bed, I have to come up with a new night stand option. Would moving the furniture around in this way give me more floor space or would it pretty much just be the same? I’d like to get new curtains. If I get new curtains, I might as well repaint the room. I like the color of this room, but I could go with a darker shade of blue. Oh wait…I’m supposed to be focusing on my breath right now. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I’m going to peek at the timer. Okay, one minute left.

Then I wrote about all of this in my journal. I have my Mamaw’s bible and in the notes section she wrote down the dates for when she moved the living room rug and the refrigerator. So writing about moving furniture runs in the family. Also, I had zero expectations about this. I knew that I would not just be able to sit down into meditation and find peace and enlightenment after so many years away from this practice. Creating a habit like this happens in steps. The first step is getting my body used to getting up at this time in the morning. It is making the conscious effort to sit and be present in the early morning hours. The next morning, I got up when the alarm went off. I wrapped myself in my robe and created a comfortable space to sit. Then I chose one of the guided meditations in my meditation timer. It was the kind of guided meditation that made my cynical brain roll it’s eyes, but I listened to it any way. Just when I thought I had had enough, the speaker said “Energy flows into the thing you are focusing on.”

Alright. Those are words I could use.

Where do I want to be sending my energy? More importantly, where am I wasting my energy?

Those are some really good questions to ponder as I get this meditation practice re-established.

Now excuse me. I need to go find the tape measure.

EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS: WHAT WE LEARNED FROM LIGHTING THE MENORAH

Cindy Maddera

See this Instagram photo by @elephant_soap * 5 likes

On Christmas Eve, as we were driving to drop off the Cabbage with her Mom, I said to Michael "It's the first night of Hanukkah. We should light a menorah!" He narrowed his eyes and said "We should light a menorah!" We dropped the kid off and then headed to Walgreens to buy a menorah except Walgreens didn't have any. So then we went to World Market, but they didn't have any menorahs either. World Market doesn't seem so 'worldly' now. Finally, we walked next door to Target and they had menorahs tucked over on an end cap between stationary and birthday wrapping paper. We bought a menorah and some candles and while Michael drove us home, I did some research on how we're actually supposed to light the candles. 

We got home and set up our little menorah. Michael lit the shamash candle and then I said the blessings before he lit the first candle of Hanukkah. Then we looked at each other with giant grins on our faces. This felt important and relevant. Soon after I posted a picture of our menorah, Chad sent me a text asking me if Michael is Jewish. I sent a reply of 'nope' and then explained that we just felt that lighting the menorah was something we would do this year. As the days past and I posted more menorah pictures, I had several people say to me "I didn't know you were Jewish!" Again, I would explain that I am not Jewish and that lighting the menorah was our way of honoring other religions during this Holiday season. Michael even talked about getting a calendar that listed ALL the holidays and trying to celebrate every single one throughout a year. Charles, our friend who is about to be ordained as a priest, reminded us that this was an overwhelming idea because there are SO MANY HOLIDAYS. So we put a hold on that thought. 

For eight days, we said blessings and lit the candles on the menorah. When we traveled, we took the menorah with us. We included all of those we stayed with in lighting the menorah. 

Blessed are you, our G-d, King of the Universe who sanctified us with his commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah lights.
Blessed are you, our G-d, King of the Universe who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time. 

Each night, I spoke those words as I watched Michael light one candle and then another. It was a moment of each day where we had to pause. It was a moment of each day where we had to stop and say "it's time to light the menorah." and it made us more mindful. It gave the holiday and the time spent with family and friends more of something I'm not sure of. Maybe tangible? Meaningful? Respectful. Important. This may be the beginning of a yearly tradition. Maybe next year we add on until we are recognizing all of the different religions. Do you know the story of Giordano Bruno? He was an Italian Dominican friar who lived between 1550 and 1600.  He continued Copernicus's work and proposed that stars where distant suns and that the universe is infinite. Of course, the Roman Inquisition didn't care for this and had Bruno executed for heresy. During his trial it is said that Bruno defended his theories by saying that God is infinite and therefor the universe must be infinite. He declared to the Roman Catholics that "their God was too small." He was burned at the stake on February 17th, 1600.

Lighting the menorah each night reminded me that I grew up in a religion whose God is too small, too exclusive, a religion very much like the many other exclusive religions. Yet, by taking a moment to understand other religions we begin to understand more about each other and it is apparent that we all want to believe in something greater than ourselves. Isn't that proof that God is indeed infinite and not confined to one book or another?