"Why am I even doing this?" This question is one I have asked myself during meditation repeatedly over the last several years. I asked it yesterday, on a beautiful Saturday morning, on the first walking meditation session of a half-day retreat.
I could have been doing any number of other things. The lovely weather offered a perfect opportunity to clean up my yard. I also have been meaning to take my kids to the museum to see a new exhibit. Like most lawyers, I had a selection of work and meditation teaching-related tasks waiting for me.
But I had chosen to spend the better part of a day sitting and walking in silence. Given all the other choices before me and the fact that time was so precious, the question "why" naturally arose. The fact of the question didn't surprise me. The tone underlying it did.
Why Isn't Always a Question
As I have shared before, why questions often implicitly posit more than they seek. When we ask why, of ourselves or others, it can easily connote a judgment instead of asking a question. On one of my first meditation retreats, this same question -- why am I here -- was really a symptom of my own doubt.
This time, after years of practice, hundreds of hours of training, and many more meditation retreats, the question finally appeared as a real question. When it arose, I felt the curiosity behind it. It allowed me to consider the facts with an open mind, instead of retreating into self-defense.
So, as I walked, I considered why I had decided to come to this particular half-day retreat. I'd made the decision to attend in the preceding days when I had the sense that I "needed" some extended time for meditation. The weeks prior had been busy, to be sure, with many activities that an introvert like me finds draining.
Retreats Are a Chance to Your Identity Down
This provided some of the answer, but I knew there was more to it. My busy couple of weeks was also embedded in a transitional series of months. I had started a job with a new firm in January. It was a good change but a big one. As someone with a history of anxiety, change of this nature causes a lot of worry.
While I walked, I noticed something amazing: I was not worrying at all. I also realized that I had not worried during the first full sit or the drive to the retreat site. This was remarkable because downtime--moments not filled to the brim with activity--is when my worry tended to arise. Here I was, though, with planned hours of downtime and I was doing just fine.
When I noticed this fact, I smiled because my "why" was immediately apparent. I had gone to the retreat to rest in the deepest sense of the word. Now that I have practiced meditation for a while, I am comfortable sitting and letting my thoughts go. I can get distance from them and let them float and bounce around. I trust that with time they eventually will stop and my mind will settle.
Meditation Can Offer a Rest from All the Worry
What this means, then, is that retreat offers me an extended period to set my worries down. For a few hours (or days when I can afford it), I can set my identity aside. This allows me to just notice what is happening in my mind and body and present moment experience. In doing so, worry stops because it is entirely useless and irrelevant.
Of course, this does not mean that worry stops for all time. Anxiety for me, like many other lawyers, has been a lifelong friend. I have no doubts it will return. But when it does, I know from experience that the terror it used to invoke will be missing. Prior to meditation, anxiety was more than a dreadful feeling and a head filled with dire thoughts. It was something I never thought I could escape.
When I started meditation, though, I learned that I didn't have to escape. Instead, slowly and surely I began to face my anxiety. I broke it into pieces and noticed the thoughts, body sensations, and emotions one by one. Then I learned to interpret what, if anything the anxiety was telling me. Usually, it was just saying "I'm scared" or "there's something I can't control and that makes me feel unsafe."
Ending Worry Means Facing Fear with Kindness
At this rock bottom stage, I unexpectedly found power. When I accepted my feelings of fear and vulnerability, I then could practice self-compassion and care for my feelings. This is what allowed me to just sit with anxiety because I had learned to trust myself to hold it with kindness.
So, why spend a beautiful Saturday cooped up at a silent meditation retreat? To put it simply, it's a chance to take a break from normal life and go back to the very basics. Retreat is remarkable because it is a chance to practice just being with life exactly as it is. For me, this has usually meant a return to my normal life with less worry and more kindness.
At the end of the retreat, when all of my why questions had been answered, we ended with a guided loving-kindness practice. This practice had been a favorite of mine for a long time. This time, the leader started us off by cuing us to think of an image or person who inspired compassion in us. The most shocking thing happened when the image that came to my mind was myself.
Practicing Kindness Can Help Us Face Life
Like most lawyers, self-compassion was something I'd always had to work to cultivate. My own image didn't come to mind, though, because I am naturally mild and magnanimous. I knew it was, instead, a recognition of my stubbornness. All the worry over the last few weeks had shown proven something meaningful: that I wouldn't give up on myself.
I had been a bit exasperated with all my worries, but I had never turned on myself. Instead, I relentlessly (even if not effortlessly) tended to my fears with self-care and sought support from others. With far less angst than in years past, I did what any kind person would do for another person in need of support. In doing so, I had become my own source and image of compassion.
This recognition was a beautiful way to end the retreat and a sign that I was ready to pick my identity back up. Because I had a chance to set it aside for a while, it didn't feel so heavy. Resting from my worries helped remind me I could face them again when needed. Reconnecting with compassion reminded me I had the tools, in myself and others, to face life as it is.
Conclusion
So why should lawyers or other professionals take time out of their busy lives to sit and do nothing at a retreat? Because doing nothing provides a unique opportunity to see how life really is or at least how it can be when we aren't lost in thoughts and worries. It's a chance to set identity aside, rest from anxiety, doubts, and fears, and reconnect with simple kindness.
Meditation retreats are not easy and not exactly fun. They can be challenge for lawyers to schedule and attend. Despite this, I love attending meditation retreats because I usually gain insights and always feel lighter at the end.
Want to learn more about mindfulness and compassion? Check out my new book, How to Be a Badass Lawyer, for a simple guide to creating a meditation practice of your own in 30 days. And to share mindfulness with your little one, check out my new children's book, Mommy Needs a Minute.
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