Distractions are the antithesis of meditation, but our lives are often ruled by them in Daydreaming on the Porch

Thinking back, we remember that as children a day seemed to last for a long time, more like the way we experience a month now. A year was so long there was no end to it. Gradually our perception changed. Our preoccupations, concepts, and attachments grew day by day. Now the open space is no longer there in our minds. ..We run around at full speed, and crowd our minds with a houseful of thoughts, concepts, and emotions. When our minds are calm, we feel every minute of time, but if our minds chase after everything going on around us, we feel that the day has ended before it has even begun…

Tulku Thondup

Healing Meditations

What splendid, mesmerizing sights the skies have been at dusk each evening at the beach this past week. Cumulus clouds in fantastic shapes and striations of color and design crowd the horizon in all directions. Infinitely complex and beautiful. Changing by the second. If we are mindful and look.

But the other evening, as is so often the case, I was distracted. I settled in my chair with my book bag and camera at the ready, on the alert for things to observe and photograph. The clouds began to light up with purple and pink striations at sunset. I took pictures from my chair, turning to the north. I turned to the south and phographed the sky 180 degrees away. A wholly different mood. A new world.

I watched people going by. I looked for the pelicans skimming over the water. I thought about the restless and disturbing preoccupations and yearnings my mind has been filled with for days and weeks. I listenend intently to the sounds of the surf for wisdom and inspiration.

Then, I picked up my book to try to calm my distractions with deep and purposeful thought. The subtitle: “Emotions, consciousness, and the secret of the self.” What more could I ask for in a book? Maybe the secret of life itself?

I had read no more than a few paragraphs, when I glanced up the beach to my left. There I saw a curious sight. A young man in flowing white shirt was approaching. About 50 yards from where I sat, he spread a mat on the sand and sat cross-legged on the hard surface of the beach, hands in front of him. He stared out to sea.

Night was approaching, but there was still enough light to see what was happening. But gradually, the veil of darkness began to descend in earnest. This is the time of day I treasure. Everything is winding down. The day is ending. The shadows and darkness hide the harsh realities of bright daylight. Where did the day begin? What happened? Have I any clue?
This youth remained seated in that one position for around 30 minutes. I have never seen such concentration. One rarely witnesses anyone meditating on the beach. I have seen people doing Tai Chi in the early mornings there. But this deliberate meditative approach…. No, that was quite a novel sight.

At the same time he was meditating, I was busy thinking this and that, looking here and there, trying to read my book and acquiring in the process a long string of impressions and mixed up thoughts — a veritable salad and gumbo of jumbled notions and ideas, impressions and vague ponderings. I think this is why I now feel no concept of time. Life is full of so many needs and preoccupations, random thoughts and worries that to savor and ponder meaningfully, and at length any one thought, desire, or emotion, seems like the most far-fetched, but sought-after impossibility.

But that young man meditating — What was he thinking? Was there a sense of being and nothingness as he listened to the ceaseless sounds of the surf and felt the cool rush of the sea breeze that caressed me at the same time? I was trying to put myself in his position and extrapolate from what little I know about true meditation. I’ve read a lot here and there, but I am no practictioner of the meditative arts.
I admired and envied his calm. His ability to concentrate. People occasionally passed in front of him. He didn’t seem concerned or perturbed. I, in contrast, often get annoyed when people pass too close to where I am sitting on the beach and invade my zone of personal “space.” What nerve! Leave me alone. Have some respect for my “space.” The fact that I am even concerned about something so trivial is in itself worrisome to me.

But what about “mental space?” Maybe we should try to actually empty our minds instead of filling them up constantly at one fountain of knowledge and wisdom after another. In abundance, the sweet water loses its taste and ability to quench one’s thirst.

About a quarter to 9, just as night was really settling over the beach, another curious phenomenon, exceedingly aggravating and annoying. I label it “The Invasion of the Flashlight People. ” These are groups of beachgoers who like to come out after dark and walk around shining their flashlights into the sand and water and air like little laser beams, pretending they can then see where they are going. Becoming empowered by these feeble little shafts of light. The beach is never that dark. There is always some kind of illumination. Starlight, moonlight. But the Flashlight People, like those weird and curious aliens in a Star Wars movie, mill around aimlessly and shine their flashlights my way on occasion. Light beams bounce all over the place. The Flashlight People remind me of grounded fireflies. Out of their element. It’s about that time I usually pack up and leave.

The beach is no longer a quiet, darkening, magical place. The mood is broken.
I saw the Flashlight People approach the mediating youth. He roused himself from his other state of mind, picked up his mat, and departed into the night. Slowly, deliberately.
I sat back in my chair. The ocean air was sweet and faintly salty. It had sailed across the Atlantic on vast streams and currents from North Africa. It was warm and moist.

Last updated November 19, 2022