I told a story recently about yoga experience that involved a guided meditation. Quick summary: it involved talking to my baby boy, Liam, who passed away in 2005, and some crying. It was, very simply, a healing experience.
What I also mentioned back in that post, somewhat shamefully, is that I watch Grey’s Anatomy. But more importantly it’s that I cry—a lot—while watching Grey’s Anatomy. Over the last couple-few weeks it’s come into my awareness that maybe I count on this show to do this thing for me. Maybe. This is what’s really interesting, though, ever since my guided-meditation-yoga-experience (that’s a bunch of episodes) I haven’t cried during the show.
And this most recent episode, well shoot, was super extra sad. Like the kind of sad I can count on for tears dripping off my chin; probably some stuttered breathing. You know? But there wasn’t any of that. Instead I found myself aware of the sadness and curious about my lack response. I didn’t have anything to release. But I was looking for it, almost like I have been counting on this show to take care of me in this way; to get that energy out.
Even now I catch myself looking down at my chest…I don’t know; looking for the hole? In the months after Liam died I always had this image in my head that my insides had been scraped out, like a pumpkin. Gutted. In watching this last show I realized the pain and sadness were not there. That they were (is it possible?) a little more healed.
You know that place in your body that you feel, quite physically, when someone says something that hurts you? Mine is in my heart center, right in the chest. The right combination of words and BOOM, it can knock me back and take my breath away. That’s my pain body. And if you know what I’m talking about, that’s your pain body. This is what I’m talking about. My pain body didn’t respond. It wasn’t painful.
I don’t think that the pain is completely gone. We’re human. We’re cyclical creatures that experience things over and over again. I imagine I’ll do this again (and again), but with each turn it will get easier. It’s also worth noting that there is a great joy in this healing. I love figuring this stuff out.
With that, I give you:::Zentangle. Like zen and tangle combined into one word. I think of it as a kind of meditative doodle. It’s a structured way of drawing that promotes a zen-like state of being. You can draw something abstract or realistic, it doesn’t matter, and you fill each little open cavity with tangles (that’s zentangle lingo for patterns). Try it. It’s addictive and it feels good and it opens you up to new awareness.
- Draw a gentle, flowing scribble.
- Fill each space with patterns or tangles.
- Focus your awareness, your body, your breath, on each stroke of the pen.
- Step back and admire. Often.
- Please go to zentangle.com to get more ideas and inspiration.