Mind your language

I couldn’t sleep last night so I decided to go for an unsolicited guided meditation on the internet. It’s an irony that I couldn’t sleep, as sleeping is pretty much the most consistent thing I do at the moment. That and meditate to get to sleep. Yeah, sorry folks, I’m a meditator. More on that in a minute. Anyway, the guy I often listen to, Jon Kabat-Zinn, was boring me a bit, so I thought I’d go outside and take a punt. Big mistake. I found an insomnia meditation by a guy called Jason Stephenson; to be fair to Jason, he does have a soporific voice, but then the sleep fantasy he set up was just plain creepy. Who are these wackos who upload weird sleep tapes to the internet, and who are the idiots that listen to them (I think I may have just answered this for you). Regarding J’s sleep hypnosis, first you’re flown into your own island via your own private jet, which has more to do with avarice than sleep if you ask me, then you apparently have your own robots who’ll wait on you hand and foot. The weird bit is when they come and rub suntan lotion into your back. Now look here Jason, I don’t want any fucking robots rubbing sun cream into my back, okay? Who wants hot metal with creamy lotion slicing into their skin? Are you a madman?

Anyway, as you can see, my life is deeply thrilling at the moment. It pretty much is a case of me getting my head down and then awaiting the next scan. I’m glad I took up meditation when I did, as had I not, then I imagine I’d be even more bored than I am right now. I never went for transcendental meditation or anything like that – asking a month’s wages for one little word to recite over and over again sounds like the work of snake oil salesmen to me, and that includes you David Lynch. I’ve taken up a few Buddhist meditations too, though not the nam-myoho-renge-kyo as a) I’m not sure what it’s for and b) I don’t know how anyone manages it without running out of breath after ten seconds. I was told about nam-myoho-renge-kyo by Howard Jones, when I used to send him drunken emails asking for life advice, but that’s a sorry story for another day.

fishyfishThe thing about mindfulness is it’s amazing how unamazing it is, and yet, over time, it does seem to work wonders for my anxiety and general personality, which becomes even more winning than it is already. It certainly feels like the Emperor’s new clothes at times, and yet it’s clinically proven to improve your well being, or maybe that’s some therapy culture horse crap I’ve swallowed along the way. I suspect the reason it works is due to the fact we don’t breathe properly a lot of the time, and rarely take some minutes out of the day to sit in contemplative silence.  Just sitting still for a while can make a lot of difference to your demeanour. I also read somewhere that praying and meditation helps you live longer, though I wouldn’t use me as the median study.

I’ve attempted resting in choiceless awareness recently, and buggered if I can explain that because I’m not entirely sure what it is myself. Apparently it’s a non-meditation meditation, so you sit doing all the normal things you would do like breath and hear and be aware of where you’re sitting and that sort of thing, but then you actively don’t meditate on any of it. Anyway, I’m not very good at it as I’m thinking about what I’m doing all the time, and that’s kind of the opposite of the prescribed course of action. I think I might just go back to concentrating on the breath and leave it at that.

Nothing has happened of note, dear reader, aside from me having to go into hospital last week to sort out some thrombosis of the jugular. It wasn’t as serious as it sounds, but it just means more injections for the next three weeks. In times like these, to save a person from going crazy, you just have to be as zen as you possibly can be. Whatever that is.

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