Becky Blab

Just this week a paper was published in the American Psychological Association Journal, Emotion, regarding a study conducted by researchers in Montreal Canada. Joshua Grant, the lead researcher, described the way in which they measured the brain thickness of 17 Zen meditators and 18 non-meditators using MRI scans. They examined in particular specific areas of the brain that regulate emotion and pain and what they discovered was that these areas are significantly thicker in meditators than non meditators.

This finding has received a great deal of publicity as it is the first direct evidence of a physical and neurological change produced by meditation.

Previous research had unearthed differing health outcomes, but this actually looks at the way in which meditation starts changing the shape of our inner organs. This greatly affects our understanding of our ability to improve ourselves – even at a level of altering the anatomy of our brains – and it provides ample encouragement to the world of personal development in general and contemplative/meditation based self help in particular. Stillness and presence is a far more powerful tool than any of us had previously known. (My Italics)

The author presents a lovely conclusion:

So the next time you see someone meditating or practicing yoga, or you are doing it yourself, know what is going on inside as a result is a process far more profound and transformative than you may ever have realized.

Via Technorati.

Great to see this kind of research being done, but even better to experience the transformation myself!

Outbound journey:
Yesterday, I rushed to catch the 11 am bus to Delhi to attend the Sathsang with Sadhguru. As I settle into my seat, I get a call that it might be called off because of a recent death from a car accident. It momentarily snaps me out of my i’m-in-a-hurry-can’t-think mode, and I get off the bus to make a call to confirm that the sathsang is still on. I cajole the conductor to just wait one minute for me to finish the call, and re-board when I get the green signal.

After the usual 6 hour journey spent half dozing, I arrive with plenty of time to reach the sathsang venue. I manage to negotiate a decent price for the auto ride, though the driver doesn’t seem to have a clue where we’re going and asks other drivers every ten minutes. Almost an hour passes this way, and we’re nearing the destination. I see a sign to turn right, but it’s not the right one. I see another sign to turn left, and I am filled with relief. Waiting for the third sign, which never came, we drive interminably down a narrow lane lined with walls and farmhouses behind them. It is almost a European quaint, except for the impending nightfall and my clenching heart–few people around, I can’t find the house, no street lights, angry auto driver…

Finally a motorcycle driver and a phone call re-directs us back the way we came. Driver bhaiyya is saying something like “You don’t know anything about Delhi, you just got here, you don’t know where we’re going, I shouldn’t have listened to you,” etc. I feel upset, but realize it was just the release of the pent-up tension I was feeling at not finding the destination. We reach, and I feel utterly stupid for having lost awareness of the gravity of mortality and the fleetingness of life.

This feeling stays with me all night, as I’m continuously reminded: Life is so fragile, any moment it could go. But after being with Sadhguru and other Isha meditators, I’m filled with such an intense energy that it was hard to go to sleep. I read some of my friend’s copy of “Eat, Pray, Love,” skimming the passages for “Richard from Texas.” I had just met him last month at the Isha Yoga Center. Though the encounter was brief, his charm and wisdom were unmissable.

Inbound Journey:

I had a comparatively more leisurely morning, but still rushed to eat and get on my way again since I didn’t know how long it would take to reach the bus station. I arrived with plenty of time, but still managed to give myself a stomachache.

As I near Jaipur, I come online to see that “Richard from Texas” has also died. Then our bus slows down as we pass a totalled car, getting flipped right-side-up from the ditch in the center of the opposite-bound lanes. A group of villagers have gathered as the rescue team. How concerned these people seem about the travelers, who they’ve never met; how forgotten they are by the rest of the world and the march of “progress”. I stare at the looming hill behind, a huge, sandstone precipice jutting out at the top. My “Why?” seems to hang just above, getting tossed about in the sandy winds. The stones seem so wise, to know much more than I ever will about death.

We’re nearing the station and they switch on the lights. Sitting just behind the driver, I witness a touching ritual that must be commonplace with drivers across India. The conductor’s face is upturned, hands together and open: he’s reciting something. So I glance in the direction where he’s looking and am not  surprised to see two silver gods, encased in a plastic box and mounted on the wall, and a couple colorful stickers of more gods below. I look back at him; he brings his hands over his head like he’s pretending to smooth down his hair.

It makes so much sense that it’s almost humorous. Of course the roads are so treacherous that only the gods can get you through alive.

But that’s just the sad part: relying on make-believe when the distance between life and death is the same as that between awareness and unawareness. One careless act can cost precious life.

And we are the gods with the tremendous responsibility and burden to bear: being aware.

“The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.” (Matthew 6:22)

Sadhguru says…

“These two eyes are discriminatory (pointing to his eyes). They tell you what is high, what is low, what is man, what is woman, what is this, what is that. These two eyes are instruments of survival…

‘If thine eye be single’ means that you are no more discriminatory. You are seeing everything as one; you are seeing everything as the same. If you become like this, your body shall be filled with light, and that is Grace.

Grace means that the source of your existence, that which is larger than creation, is no more outside of you; it is within you. You are no more looking for an outside source of light – you have become the source of light. Once you become that, even for a moment, your life will never be the same.

We are doing so many things in Isha (Sadhguru’s meditation programs) to somehow make you experience this at least for a moment. You may not be experiencing it all the time, but if at least for a moment you see that you are filled with light, that means Grace has touched you.”

Inhalation:

Inundation,

Exhalation:

Dissolution.

From utter simplicity

I create chaos & confusion.

Devouring your breath,

the highest honor.

Forever entwined,

enshrined in my being.

Missing this breath,

the biggest mistake.

Seeing it is

seeing all:

Clarity.

from 2009. see if you can find me...

To revisit last year’s sharing, click here.  I’m so glad I attended the 8-day Silence program again. I fell into it much easier, and was able to enjoy it more thoroughly. Most importantly, it was all the more incredibly intense.

Gratitude doesn’t begin to explain…  to Sadhguru, for offering himself endlessly; Isha volunteers, Swamis, Maas: for dedicating their lives to seeking the unknown & providing the situations to others to deepen their search.

My experience from Mahashivarathri 2010. (You can still listen & view the photos online).

I dance for the exhileration it brings;

You lift me up on your wings.

I dance beyond exhaustion;

You take me to destruction.

I dance with abandon;

Your glance, a momentary glipse.

I dance meters away from the music and you;

You dance in the darkness of emptiness.

My dance is simple illusion;

Your dance is ultimate truth.