Putting Myself to Sleep

I have had lots on my plate lately . . . and each evening, same story. The familiar tightness makes itself felt, that could keep me up all night. 

Rather than getting even more upset by such unwelcome visitor, I have discovered a new way of being that has made it (relatively) easy to fall into the oblivion of sleep. 

It goes like this . . . 

Lying in bed, I turn my attention to the whole experience of body in repose, pressure in the throat, knot in the stomach, and also breath coming and going at its own pace. Back and forth, between tightness and breath. Embracing the discomfort, meanwhile letting body being breathed. Each breath, a gentle stroke against the fear, and the butterflies swirling inside. Softening, softening, and making room for growing delight. 

Surrendering to the sweetness of breath.

How do you put yourself to sleep?

Other posts on same topic:

When sleep catches awareness

Sleepless in France

Cold Feet in Hong Kong

Hot in Delhi

Not Getting Up, Being Mindful

There is a school of thought that warns to be careful with lying down practice. One can fall asleep, and then that's the end (of the meditation).

This morning, I decided to take a chance, and stay in bed a little longer, and do my morning practice right there. Sure, there was sleepiness present from a night cut short and maybe I would doze off? It would be interesting to see.

Lying down, I put my hands on my belly, and watched the ebbs and flows of breath being received, and leaving. Sleepiness, yes, to be recognized. And a host of other phenomena. The sounds of sirens, dogs yapping, neighbors' door slammed, plane passing, . . . Thoughts about work. Suffering from long held constriction in the throat, and the stomach. And back to focusing on the experience of breath caressing the hands, in and out, gently.

Another time, I might have decided to sleep in some more, and bypass morning sitting altogether. Or I would have gone with the brutal awakening of the alarm clock, forcing myself to take place on my seat.

This morning, I discovered another more gentle way to start the day.

Awakening.

Sleepless in France

4 am, French time, I woke up. Mixed up internal clock acted as if body was still in California . . .

I could have gotten up and worked on the computer. I could have laid restless and upset about not getting enough sleep. I could have tried to force myself back to sleep.

Instead, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to practice lying down meditation. Mind awake could focus on the myriad of sensations throughout the body, with breath stepping in between, begging to be noticed also. One hand on belly, the other on the heart. Being breathed. There was ease, watching thoughts streaming in, then getting lost often until an opening between two thoughts gave space enough for the attention to catch on. Returning to body, and breath. Starting again where awareness had left off, part by part, with a definite pull towards the feet and legs. And the movement of breath again. All happening within a general atmosphere of pleasant warmth and intimacy, mixed in with the not so pleasant tiredness, and pain from achy body. 

Without noticing, the sleepiness must have come. 8.50 am, eyes opened to bright day light. 

I have practiced lying down meditation before during sleepless nights on other international trips. Each time, same result. 

Hot in Delhi

After two days of nonstop travel, I had been looking forward to the pleasure of a good night sleep at the hotel in Delhi. Instead, I was met with steaming hotness from broken air conditioner, and intermittent loud noises from night workers in courtyard below. What to do? I decided to seize the opportunity and practice lying meditation. After all I was following the Buddha's footsteps.

Body and mind softened by jetlag fatigue surrendered, easy, to the gentle flow of breath. Each  part so sweet   especially the  pregnant pause between each fall and rise, that filled with surprise of new hotness, and sometimes sounds, several of them at once.  And, when confusion was too much, it was back to breath. So sweet  still. . .

Mind, calmed. Body, rid of tension. Enough for sleep to do its job. Meditation is the best sleeping remedy.

Feeling the Fear

Woken up by fear in middle of the night. Only fear, breath, and loud noise from air conditioner. Fear, big, grasping me at the throat. Tightening the chest, and stomach. Another opportunity for lying down meditation. Staying with the fear, feeling it, completely. Until breath takes me back to sleep.

Nothing to fear, objectively. I am at Johor Pulai Springs Resort, Malaysia, in the midst of a fabulous Indian wedding, with nothing to worry about. Fear is all creation of mind.

Remembering passage from Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche, in Inquiring Mind, that I read in the plane over:

In meditation, there is wisdom and there is method. Wisdom allows you to see the true matter. Through wisdom you know what panic is; you see that panic is impermanence. But with method, meditation, you don't even have to ask the cause. You feel the panic and transform it - panic into shamatha, panic into loving kindness and compassion, panic into emptiness. So you don' have to ask why. It just transform directly. 

Feeling the fear . . . and breath.

Middle of the Night Meditation

Awakened, I lay, frustrated about broken sleep. Then, I remember Ajahn Chah,

Don't think that only sitting with the eyes closed is practice. If you do think this way then quickly change your thinking! Steady practice is having the attitude of practice while standing, walking, sitting and lying down. When coming out of sitting meditation, reflect that you're simply changing postures. If you reflect in this way you will have peace. Wherever you are you will have this attitude of practice with you constantly, you will have a steady awareness within yourself. (from "Right Practice, Steady Practice", in Food for the Heart)

Mindfulness vow continues into the night, that's right . . .

Feeling tight stomach, clenched teeth. And fear. Thought of child traveling in risky part of the world, testing her newfound adult independence and honoring her adventurous spirit. I know I am supposed to set her free. Still, protective mother instinct was set in motion by message received yesterday from dear traveler. In the penumbra of the night, I remember the essence of the words from another teacher, Ayya Khema, as she talked about being pushed to the limits of her motherly love, from having to contemplate the possibility of losing her son, as he too set out to explore the world. (story from Ayya Khema's autobiography, 'I Give You My Life'). I realize I can hold the fear, and also surrender my need to control what I cannot control, i.e. my loved one's life. A bit soothed, I settled into breath. Easy. Thoughts now gone. Only breath, and Prad's breath, and otherwise utter silence. Feeling myself fading back into sleep.

"The attitude of practice" . . .