IN THE GROOVE (or is it a rut?)

Long ago, and far away (as many stories start) I used to meditate regularly. I was a graduate student in an accelerated MD/PhD program and was, without a doubt, under a lot of stress. My stomach hurt. It would hurt during the day, especially if I didn't have time to eat. It would really hurt at night when I tought the acid would burn a hole right through me. At the time, the only treatment was a roll of Tums or Rolaids carried in my pocket during the day, and a swig of that incredibly foul, chalky Maalox before going to bed. I found that on nights that I went to Aikido, which included some quiet breathing exercises, the pain wasn't quite so bad. I started doing my "breathing exercises" each night at home and this gradually evolved into a ritual where I would sit in a comfortable zazen position for an hour or so each evening and meditate. I soon had no need for antacids.

As life moved forward, that hour was harder and harder to find until, all of a sudden, it had been decades since I had meditated. I had developed other coping mechanisms for stress - most involving movement, like running, bicycling, kayaking, skiing, surfing, etc. Now, after thousands of miles and hours of these activities, and a few knee surgeries, but a renewed need to meditate, theres no way I could get back into that zazen position for a minute, let alone an hour. That's one reason I have taken up "walking meditation." I try to be mindful, when I walk, of my body movement, of my breathing, of my surroundings and of the random thoughts going in and out of my head. If I can let those thoughts go, things occassionally quiet down enough that I can put my walking on "body-mind autopilot" and become aware of my mind drifting off to a comfortable, quiet place. My mind is detached, but totally engaged with the universe. I experience a sensation of peace and serenity. This doesn't happen all the time - there are days where I can't let go of the thoughts - but when it does happen it really feels like I am "in the groove."

So, that's where I was today on my walk when I was pulled back to the real world by water running down my cheeks. I was calm, peaceful, relaxed - so why was my body crying? I tried to become more aware of what was happening. Thoughts started sliding through my mind - is this an unrecognized/unresolved emotional issue? Is this some sort of release of repressed emotion? It's hard not to think of crying as having an emotional basis, but I wasn't feeling emotional. Yes, there has been a little heaviness and fullness in my chest of late… OK, I'm satisfied at calling that feeling in my chest emotion - that's better than calling it tumor.