The Breath Of Life

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The most haunting aspect of being possessed by rheumatoid arthritis is the potential loss of the skillful use of my thumbs. James Whitmore played a role in a prison movie of which it was stated of his character in regard to his upcoming parole, "In here he serves a useful purpose, but out there he'll be just another old man with bad hands."

I didn't know at the time I saw the movie that I would become "just another old man with bad hands." I am that now. Having a pretty good idea of what's coming down the pike doesn't make it any easier to deal with scenes in the nature shows on TV that keep pointing to the real difference between men and monkeys is man's opposable thumbs. Twice in the last couple of days I've found myself changing channels rather than be reminded that not being able to grip the simplest things like tools to cook with is a severe disadvantage in pretending to be a cock of the walk.

I really anticipated Saturday arriving so I could take a dose of methotrexate to help me manage the pain in my wrists and hands. It's not like I have to use my hands to encounter the pain. They hurt all the time now day and night. I took the pills around lunch yesterday and they're not helping that much. Somehow I knew they wouldn't.

Practicing the scales on my digital piano has become a hit or miss event when it comes to daily practice. Sometime using my hands to do that seems to loosen them up and they feel better for a while. I don't think using my hands even though it can be painful is going to affect the eventually outcome.

I have other problems with my fingers presently that has nothing to do with arthritis. I was using my mandolin slicer to slice some onions to go in this weird dish I was attempting to prepare. I got down close to the nub of the onions I was holding with my fingers, and instead of reaching for the little plastic doodad that's designed to hold the last of what's being sliced, I went one stroke too many and sliced off a hunk of skin on the thumb and forefinger of my right hand.

These kinds of cuts take forever to heal even in normal times, but this prescription drugs I'm taking lowers my immune system such that it take even longer than normal to heal. Never have I become more tersely aware that the skin covering of living things is a separate organ all by itself.

My skin is an organ just like my heart or liver or kidneys or my eyes. I can look at my skin. I have to use a mirror, and because I'm fairly blind I can't see the details like I used to. My skin as an indicator of my general health ain't looking that good. It's probably an indicator of what my internal organs look like too.

Maybe it's because I sit down a lot that sitting down to meditation is not as meaningful for me as it was in the past. Since I use breathing as a focus for my meditation practice it's my breath that tells me the most effective way of meditation for me currently.

My breath is telling me that my walking meditation is more effective than sitting, but recently I'm realizing that I get a lot out of just standing erect and paying attention to my breath in that posture is working well for me too. I've worked up a routine for my breathing while I bend at the waist in a circle. I self-observe while doing this and watch how bending in different directions impinges on my breath.

It usually takes a while to bend backwards from standing erect. I figure that's due to the fact that sitting forces me to bend forward for long periods of time when I'm at my computer. Bending backwards stretches my stomach muscles that habitually stay tense when I'm sitting.

Bending backwards to stretch my stomach and frontal torso muscles almost always requires me to let go mentally of whatever I've been concentrating on previously. I have to sort of feel my way through the backwards stretch and consciously let go of tight spots. Most of the time I do this stretch it's the muscles in the lowest part of my stomach that take the longest to unwind.

The muscles there in the lowest part of my stomach seem directly associated with the perineum. When I can relax one area or the other, the other area appears to let go also. I practice a visualization technique to get this to happen... hmm... artificially.

For me there is a holy spot in the area of my perineum. Sometime it lights up all of it's own accord without any notice it's gonna happen. This is the most delightful way for it to notify me consciously that my root chakra is alive and kicking. The other was is for me to trick it into radiating enough energy for me to locate that holy spot specifically.

I approach this through observing my breath. The most ticklish part of this routine or ritual is where I observe my breath from. In this particular exercise I'm using visualization to place my attention in the area I remember the holy place from the last time I was consciously there.

The perineum is what I was taught to call "the taint". It ain't this and it ain't that... it's neither... it's the taint. In my male body the perineum and potentially the real holy spot is somewhere at the root of the stalk of my penis and in front of my rectum.

My point is that each time I attempt to engage this holy spot I have to imagine it first to bring the focus of my attention to the general area I logically discern it to be. Then, I have to move the focus of my attention to that imagined place, and direct my breathing from there.

I have to locate the real holy spot each time I attempt to meditate from the holy spot by imagining its there first, then directing my breathing from the spot I imagine, and it's from my simultaneous observation of my breath and feeling for the holy spot that I can make the final adjustment to connect my breath and the holy spot.

Why? Because once I make that connection then it's plain to "see" that the decision to initiate each breath I take is decided by wot's happening within the holy spot. That's the real reason it's recognized as the holy of holies is that the breath of life resides there.

Once I "feel" my way to the real holy spot from imagining it to be there a real physical sensation emerges that's easy to consciously return to for a while. I don't know because I've never studied meditation in any formal way, but I sorta think that's the determining factor of how often one would meditate. When the physical sensation that emerges from being tricked into revealing itself begins to wane and it take more time to locate it easily, then it's time to refocus by meditating in the normal manner.

I'm apparently unable to discern what another's normal way of meditating is. Even if they explain it to me. I still hear what I think they're saying, when they explain it to me, and can only make judgment of my own behavior in them. That's cool, but whatta I need them for if I can only "see" me?

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