When you find yourself banging meditation chimes together in attempts to get your students' attention, you know good intentions have gone awry.
My mom gave me these beautiful meditation chimes for Christmas. A professor I had last semester used similar chimes to get everyone's attention during class. "What a calming, gentle way to gain attention," I thought. And they are. Usually. Who wants to "shhh" and clap and dance around all the time? Not I. So, the meditation chimes are lovely. Last night the meditation chimes were not on my side though. Perhaps I had used up all my meditative energy just working through that interaction with my boss at the office? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, by hour 11 of work I found myself banging these beautiful brass chimes against one another. And my students were not getting quieter or more focused.
A professor I have this semester is all sorts of obsessed with Buddhist meditation. Spend your life working against human rights abuses, and I guess you need a serious way to release unknowns and tension. She doesn't push an agenda of Buddhist anything on us, but merely makes clear the utter necessity of finding a healthy way to release. I have been using a few of her meditative recommendations and last night I needed them. I realized this the exact moment I stepped out of myself and saw, to my chagrin, the irony of meditation chimes being used to communicate frustration and impatience.
So, at every red light on the drive home I took at least three deep, focused breaths. I felt my breath going in, I felt my breath going out, and I attempted to be thankful for my breath, for life, and for the day. No matter how chime-banging-frustrating it was.
A professor I have this semester is all sorts of obsessed with Buddhist meditation. Spend your life working against human rights abuses, and I guess you need a serious way to release unknowns and tension. She doesn't push an agenda of Buddhist anything on us, but merely makes clear the utter necessity of finding a healthy way to release. I have been using a few of her meditative recommendations and last night I needed them. I realized this the exact moment I stepped out of myself and saw, to my chagrin, the irony of meditation chimes being used to communicate frustration and impatience.
So, at every red light on the drive home I took at least three deep, focused breaths. I felt my breath going in, I felt my breath going out, and I attempted to be thankful for my breath, for life, and for the day. No matter how chime-banging-frustrating it was.
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