This is a brief reflection on my experience of a mindfulness meditation offered by Tara Brach, the practice is called A Present Heart, and you can find it here: https://www.tarabrach.com/meditation-present-heart-3/
I like to practice mindfulness before getting out of bed, sitting up just enough to bring a quality of wakefulness to my practice- otherwise I am likely to fall asleep again. Beginning, I enjoy the sensation of sitting, breathing and waking up slowly. Before too long my mind drifts to an email I have just read, a receipt of invoice, and I go off in the trance of money worry. I berate myself for opening my emails before meditation. Waking up to this, the worry and the self-criticism, I come back to the presence of my breath and heart space, and the tenderness with which I am able to hold myself when I am present-at-heart.
I notice what is emerging to the forefront of my attention and asking to be cared for. I am recollecting an experience from the night before. My partner and I are sharing a moment of vulnerable intimacy when his phone goes off and pulls his attention elsewhere. It’s a familiar nuisance, and it presses all my buttons. In that moment I feel a lot of things; I’m mad that he doesn’t respect our alone time enough to put his phone on silent; I am jealous of having to share his attention at moments like this; I’m frustrated at his lack of boundary and ability to say no to people; I’m tired that after almost three years, these things are still something he doesn’t take seriously. Silently, I am internalising multiple well-rehearsed narratives that make me want to pull away and disengage, the safe intimacy of our bubble is punctured.
As these thoughts to expand and take up space in the light of my awakened heart, something starts to happen. An involuntary noticing that the protective narratives my mind creates point blame outward onto my partner and absolve me of any emotional or actual responsibility. Caught in the process of story-telling and wanting to justify doing my self-protective armor (which is always heavy and cumbersome), my thinking mind is ready to add layers of ‘meaning’ to this experience. Meaning is made in the parts of our brain that deal with language and logic, seemingly independent of emotion.
But as I sit, I am able to feel the emotional content hidden beneath the surface of the narrative. Here is the ugly duckling of fear. Fear that I am too much/ not enough. Fear that I am unlovable (the alternative narrative here is that all men are emotionally retarded and don’t know how to love me the way I deserve… which conveniently absolves me of having to become more emotionally self-aware, trusting and compassionate). Fear of being alone. Fear of rejection, pity and shame.
I am gently awaked to the realization that I perceive my partner’s actions from a place of fear and unworthiness. And that this is enough to make me respond to him in a way that furthers that sense of separation, in a self-fulfilling cycle. Ironically, I know that he has triggers which stem from the exact same fears. It’s easier to see it in others than it is to see it in myself.
All of this is felt bodily in my chest, and as I breathe I can feel the sharp edges of the fear start to dissolve. This whole experience takes place in the last five minutes of the guided meditation. Unconscious motivations that have gathered momentum over almost three years made cognizant in a few moments, because I was willing to examine just one manifest example. Now I know the next time something like this happens I can smile at the stories which paint me powerless and victim of circumstance, and relax back into theawakened heart space that is pointing to my deeper need for inner care and connection.