When you’re in the
reading game, you get recommendations for all types about books you just HAVE
to read. Sometimes books are suggested
to me because people know that I am interested in a certain subject, genre or
author. More often, the people doing the recommending are overwhelmed by how a particular
book made them feel and they want to pass along the experience. I have learned
to adjust my expectations accordingly. I try to weigh what I know about
someone’s personality and reading preferences against my own before racing out
to get a copy of the book. This can be problematic, since I work in a library
and regularly get recommendations from people I don’t know at all.
A few years ago I
got a recommendation from someone I did know. Tim was a friend from my college
days with a keen mind and an easy laugh; he was also one of those people that
go around doing good deeds for no reason. At nearly six feet seven inches tall,
he was built like a linebacker. He’d driven off to Key West his senior year,
and I had a comical vision of him jammed behind a steering wheel on what must
have felt like the longest road trip ever. Tim never moved back to New England
but we did exchange sporadic letters, emails and the occasional marathon phone
call over the years. In spite of the distance I considered him one of my
closest friends and delighted in hearing about where life had taken him. Of all
the people I have known, and to good effect or bad, he was singular in his
ability to live in the moment. During one of our last email volleys he
mentioned reading Jon Kabat-Zinn’s “Wherever You Go, There You Are.” I jotted
the title on a piece of paper, and scribbled ‘Tim’ next to it. Then, as
sometimes happens, my reminder got lost in the shuffle. Our friendship also went
into one of its periodic hibernation modes as I juggled grad school and
multiple part-time library jobs. When Christmas cards went unanswered, I was at
last spurred to action. I went online to
check his phone number, but as my cursor hovered over a White Pages link, the
next entry down caught my eye. It was an obituary for someone with the same
name. I clicked automatically, thinking of the laugh we’d have later about how
different his namesake was. Alas, the obituary was in fact Tim’s. I would later
find out – via a note on the outside of my eventually returned Christmas card –
that Tim’s heart had given out, which I found ironic given his big-hearted
nature.
When I recently saw
Kabat-Zinn’s name in another author’s bibliography, I felt the universe
prodding me to make good on my offhand promise to read Tim’s recommendation. I
learned that Kabat-Zinn is the founder of the Stress Reduction
Clinic at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. Unlike the
author’s first book, “Full Catastrophe Living,” which was geared toward
people managing pressing medical problems like those in his clinic, “Wherever
You Go, There You Are” is meant as an introduction to the essence of mindfulness
meditation. Very short chapters focus on different facets of the practice, and
many chapters conclude with a suggestion for incorporating the different aspects
into one’s life. Given this format, and
in the spirit of being present in the moment rather than focusing on where I’m
going, I’ve chosen to take my time with it in order to try the suggestions rather
than skipping them to read the book straight through. I find the exercises –
such as taking a few minutes several times a day to simply focus on my breath –
to be quite helpful. I’m also amazed at the significant impact on my mindset,
whether it is an ordinary day or one in which I am grappling with larger
issues. In a meaningful coincidence, Tim’s recommendation is helping me process
the grief caused by his death.
I actually tried
meditation ages ago, when I was suffering from cluster
headaches and resisted the idea of treating them with a prescription. My then-doctor
suggested meditation, and recommended “The Relaxation Response” by mind-body
medicine pioneer Dr. Herbert Benson, who went on to write
several other books on the subject. This offers a quick introduction to using transcendental
meditation to manage stress and stress-triggered illnesses. While the practice
did help with stress, and therefore my headaches, I didn’t maintain
the habit, especially after my headaches mercifully withdrew. I guess that’s why Kabat-Zinn describes
mindfulness as being simple – but not easy. So ingrained is our automaticity
that it can be difficult to practice awareness within any given moment. That’s
why I personally find reading about meditation to be so helpful; it serves as a
gentle reminder to keep at it. While I work my way through those suggestions
for bringing mindfulness back into my life, I’ve also been listening to the
abridged version of Kabat-Zinn’s “Coming to Our Senses,” a work that connects
mindfulness to both physical and spiritual wellbeing as well as examining how
our individual development contributes to a healthier world as a whole.
Warning: this is heady stuff, and I found myself rewinding a lot – so perhaps
it is better listened to when not driving. Yet the ideas therein are compelling
and worth the effort, and there are some great suggestions for various
meditations in different postures including: sitting, lying down, standing and
even walking. Kabat-Zinn has published numerous other books and CDs that are available
in the Minuteman Library Network to help people begin or improve a meditation
practice.
I wonder what Tim
would think about our impromptu, beyond the grave book group. I regret that I
didn’t read his recommendation while he was still alive so we could talk about
it. Yet given his propensity for living in the moment I think if he could speak
from the great beyond he’d probably just point out that I am here, now.
