Sleeping SOLO

Mindfulness folks talk a lot about "awakening" but not so much about how sleeping allows us to feel awake and aware in everyday life.

I love to sleep. And I can get pretty fussy when I've not slept well.

Sleeping Hermaphroditus, LouvreMany people, however, pride themselves on how little they need to sleep. But the evidence is clear that a good night's sleep improves memory, concentration, mood, energy, libido, blood sugar levels, and hormone balance. Sleep calms systemic inflammation by lowering blood pressure, heart rate, and body temperature. If none of that convinces you of its benefits, sleep slows the aging process and it's cheaper than a facelift.

Sleeping well regularly is THE foundation of our health and wellbeing. When sound sleep eludes us nightly, it's a sign that physically or emotionally something is out of balance.

What's the most common form of torture? Sleep deprivation. Why? Because nothing breaks us down physically and emotionally faster than little to no sleep, as any new parent will tell you.

What the quickest way to improve our sleep? Slow down. Literally.

If your mind and your body are going too fast, your brain waves will also speed up. When your brain waves are moving too fast, sleep or sleeping well is impossible. The key to re-training your body-mind to sleep easily and effortlessly is to begin to slow yourself down throughout the day and evening.

The first helpful step you can take toward more restful sleep is to practice the SOLO technique:

S  =  Stop doing (for a few seconds to a few minutes)

O  =  ­Observe yourself; know your mind

L  =   Let yourself be; just breathe

O  =  Observe yourself; know your body

Know your mind means just notice that you have a mind. Bring your awareness to what the mind is perceiving (using your five senses) or doing (planning, worrying, reminiscing, etc.).

Know your body means just notice that you have a body. Bring your awareness to the experience of the body and its sensations.

Using the SOLO technique several times daily allows you to take your actions and reactions off autopilot. It helps you slow down enough to question the choices that might be affecting your ability to settle into sleep later in the evening. Can I say no to another stressful project? Do I really need that extra cup of coffee or tea? Should I really watch that next TV show or YouTube video?

As sleep specialist Dr. Barry Krakow says, "When you apply the SOLO technique, you step back from or move beyond ordinary things in life. For just a few seconds or a minute, you change your perspective to observe yourself with a fresh outlook."

Now that's an idea worth sleeping on.

Adapted from Sound Sleep, Sound Mind: 7 Keys to Sleeping through the Night by Barry Krakow, MD.

Investigating Reality

Self-inquiry is simple. It does not require you to do anything, change anything, think anything, or understand anything. It only asks you to pay careful attention to what is real.

I have two sons. When they were about four, they both went through a phase of having nightmares. I would go into the room and switch on the light. Two small eyes blinked at me from the corner. "What's the problem?" I'd ask. "Daddy, there's a monster in the room," a timid voice would reply.

Now, I had more than one choice of how to respond. I could tell my frightened boy that it was not true, there was no monster, go back to sleep. That response is the equivalent of reading a book that says, "We're all one, there is no problem, just be with what is." Fine ideas, but they don't help much.

I could also have offered to feed the monster cookies, talk with the monster, negotiate. That approach is like some kinds of psychotherapy. Treat the problem as real, then fix it on its own terms. But the only real solution I ever found was to have a good look. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the curtains, we undertook an exhaustive search. Eventually my sons would let out a deep sigh, smile at me, and fall back to sleep. The problem was not solved but dissolved. It was never real in the first place, but it took investigation to make that a reality.

—Arjuna Ardagh (thanks to whiskey river)

Demons at the Door

Pioneering psychotherapist Carl Jung once wrote, "One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. The latter procedure, however, is disagreeable and therefore not popular."

 Ain't that the truth? It also explains why only 4% of the U.S. population is in psychotherapy at any given time, according to 2002 research.

Consciousness may be a bitch but the reverse is worse.

In the spring issue of Tricycle magazine, Aura Glaser writes compellingly about the power of facing one's demons as the main vehicle for transformation along the road of life:

The spiritual journey involves stepping into unknown territory with a hunger to know what is true. One of the essential elements of such a life is the understanding that everything we encounter—fear, resentment, jealousy, embarrassment—is actually an invitation to see clearly where we are shutting down and holding back. At some point we realize we can't manipulate life to give us only what we want: the rug gets pulled out regularly.

So what do we do? Although our deep-seated tendency is to reject the unwanted in an effort to prevent suffering, it turns out that all the ways we resist actually limit our lives, bringing us pain. And yet how do we find the courage to open to, and accept, all of what we are and all of what is arising in our body and mind? How do we tap the confidence to live with that kind of openness and receive what is arising in the moment, just as it is, with clarity and kindness, How do we let life, with all of its disappointments and sorrows soften our heart?

Jung claims that it is in "the shadow" of our psyche—where feelings, experiences, and needs  languish unwanted and ignored—that we find the treasure of our wholeness and healing.  

Until we acknowledge and make relationship with these split off parts of ourselves, well, we just keep on making the same mistakes. Or as they say in recovery circles, you claim it, you tame it. For Jung,

When an inner situation is not made conscious, it appears outside as fate.

 Some of the most acutely painful moments in my life have been when I've had to look honestly at these 'darker' parts. It's easy now to see that my first marriage, for example, ran on a racket of (mutual) projection and failed attempts at controlling the uncontrollable in order to avoid heartbreaking awareness of my own issues.

As it turned out, "his" stuff was also my unresolved grief, my depression, my anger, my disconnection, my self-worth, my ignorance, my irresponsibility, my ambition, and so on. 

You spot it, you got it.

Surrendering our attempts to control or subtly manipulate what is happening in our lives allows us instead to learn what we can from it. It's not easy to greet your demons at the door, even if they might be wisdom in disguise. But those questions Glaser posed might be a good start: 

Where are you shutting down in your life right now?
Where are you holding back?

What's the Question?

Take a moment right now if you can. Take a breath or two...maybe three. Now consider this question posed by the much-loved poet and cultural contemplative David Whyte:

“What is the question your life is attempting to answer?”

This may be worth reading again.

“What is the question MY life is attempting to answer?”

You might repeat it quietly when you’re walking the dog or loading the dishwasher today or tomorrow.

“What is the question my life is attempting to answer?”

You might whisper it aloud in the car on the way to work.

“What is the question my life is attempting to answer?”

See what it’s like to sit with this question during meditation or in a still moment with a cup of coffee.

“What is the question my life is attempting to answer?”

Answering a question with a question is stock in trade for a therapist, but I find this query full of paradox and mystery, more like a Zen koan. Slightly trance inducing, it seems to raise more questions than answers in my mind.

Do I respond to this from a spiritual or a psychological perspective? What does my life as I’ve actually been living it reveal about the question I'm trying to get answers to?

You might think about that for yourself. Notice what comes to mind.

At a psychological level, another way of asking this question is what’s driving your striving? At a spiritual level, it seems to be asking why are you here?

Let me know what you come up with, if you care to share.

Winging It

Every once in awhile I ask myself, why am I meditating? Sometimes the answers are ones we all share: to get centered, to stress less, or to get reacquainted with reality in this present moment.

Last week—using the not-always-reliable principle of first thought, best thought—my answer to this question was to be present to this process of transformation. To be present to change itself.

You were born with wings. Why prefer to crawl through life?
—Rumi

We're transitioning all the time. From one job to another. From one relationship to another. From one stage of life to another. But how often, if at all, are we actually changing our inner form, transforming ourselves at a deeper psychological or spiritual level? I find this a very interesting question.

Butterfly Nebula, Hubble TelescopeAs we know from the work of evolutionary biologists like Elisabet Sahtouris, caterpillars don't just transition into their new lives as butterflies. The whole structure of their being changes form, as she writes, “after the crisis of overeating, fatigue and breakdown allows them to develop.” Sound familiar?

And perhaps you’ve noticed that this transformation, especially when it’s happening to you, is not pretty.

Within the chrysalis, the caterpillar literally dissolves into a kind of primal goo that will nourish its new form. We can’t see the profound metamorphosis that is taking place behind its opaque shell but slowly the imaginal and organizing cells of the caterpillar are re-forming into a gorgeous winged creature.

If you watch a time-lapsed video of this process, you can also see that the butterfly does not begin to emerge until the chrysalis becomes transparent, and the delicately striped wings begin to reveal themselves. As the butterfly shakes free of its old home, it seems to stay tethered for a moment, taking up the last bit of nurture or preparing itself to risk letting go and trust its ability to fly.

Sometimes I think meditation is about getting in touch with my caterpillar nature. I am of the nature to transform. Other times, it allows me to recognize where I am in the process of transforming. Am I dissolving into goo? Am I creating some more expanded sense of self? Am I waiting until the next step is clear? Am I holding on until I’m ready to fly?

The butterfly always gives birth to itself. The chrysalis does not go into labor to push the butterfly out. The butterfly instinctively knows when she is ready to emerge. She knows when all the conditions are right to give birth to her self.

The first birth is the result of nature but from thereon we seem to be responsible for recognizing when we've outgrown the cocoon and need to spread our wings wider. Initially it seems to keep us safe and cozy but eventually its walls feel too tight, too restricting. We are uncomfortable, hardly able to move or to breathe.

Of course it’s a cocoon of our own making, of limiting beliefs and obstructed view, so we can do something to support what is seeking change in us. But the caterpillar doesn’t force this change by declaring:

“I need to change. This fat, furry body is inadequate. It just isn’t working for me anymore. I need to become a butterfly. I’ll get some wings. I’ll take flying lessons. I’ll learn to dye and weave this wooly me into something beautiful and lofty.”

I’m just barely beginning to understand that cultivating mindful awareness to the ever-present process of change is the most important thing I can DO to support my transformation.

The caterpillar doesn’t have to manage its changing. And perhaps neither do we. As Sri Ramana Maharshi advises, Let what comes come. Let what goes go. Find out what remains.