My father liked to play three things: Chess, Poker and Piano. He would sit in the living room for hours and play some of Bach's, Chopin's and Beethoven's greatest sonatas. On Friday nights he would cut the deck for four of his friends and on Sunday's he would go to Coney Island and challenge the older russian men with his U.S./Soviet chess board. All three of these things aggravated his children.
"Pop can we go to the movies?" we would shout from upstairs. We were met with a silent response and more music coming out of the Steinway.
"Pop, can we go get ice cream?" the cards were held up to hide my father's face and a cough, a groan, even a sneeze followed.
Once my father was concentrating on something, there was no disturbing him. He was set on the task at hand. He also took us to baseball games, he watched us ride our bikes, he bought us clothes and fed us. I remember that while he was playing chess he was so calm I felt the only thing that could possibly interrupt him is if a tornado had swept the board off the table, and even then he would probably still have an image in his mind of his next play.
During my first meditation class I had a panic attack. The room I was in seemed to be getting smaller. It was hot. My mouth was dry. As hard as I tried to focus on my first breath, it felt like it never came, or it was to quick. I was sweating. What were all of these feelings about? Where was the calm in my life? Sometimes in the meditation group I would sit with my eyes wide open and watch everyone else.
One day I closed my eyes in the meditation group and heard Beethoven's Sonata number eight. It had been my favorite as a child. When my father played that sonata I would dance around the living room with my arms up like a ballerina and imagine a whole theatre in front of me. As I closed my eyes I understood for the first time the reason my father played music, chess and cards. All three of those things for him was a form of meditation. Participating in those three activities didn't fix any of the problems in his life, but they were a calming way for him to accept and get through every day. For my father, sitting at the piano was his time to breathe. Nothing could disturb him because he was at peace.
When I close my eyes to meditate I still always try to hear my father's piano. It brings a wave of calm over me and allows me to focus on my breath. As I continue on my path through life I understand that meditation is a practice, much like piano, chess and cards. It is an exercise in accepting what is. It is a journey and a lesson that nothing needs to be fixed and we can accept things as they are. It is an art and a window into our most inner selves: the real us, without all the bells and whistles. It allows us to relax and it gives us permission to let go.
Yoga & Meditation Retreat
with Evalena & Genno Linda King
Friday, May 18th thru Sunday, May 20th 2012
Revive, reconnect and re-center at this inspiring yoga/meditation retreat held at Dai Bosatsu Zendo, a Zen monastery high in the Catskills. Take the opportunity to regain your own natural rhythm and reconnect with yourself and with nature. Immerse yourself in two daily yoga sessions, practice zen meditation, and pranayama.
with Evalena & Genno Linda King
Friday, May 18th thru Sunday, May 20th 2012
Revive, reconnect and re-center at this inspiring yoga/meditation retreat held at Dai Bosatsu Zendo, a Zen monastery high in the Catskills. Take the opportunity to regain your own natural rhythm and reconnect with yourself and with nature. Immerse yourself in two daily yoga sessions, practice zen meditation, and pranayama.
click here to visit our website Retreat page for more info
To reserve your space or for more info contact:
evalena@yogasole.com 718 541-1382
To reserve your space or for more info contact:
evalena@yogasole.com 718 541-1382
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