East meets West: Mindfulness practices in a medical facility
The steady beep of the machine montioring vital functions… the chill of the conditioned, sterile air…the consistent questions and palpations by medical professionals…the concern in the eyes of loved ones. How to find a sense of center, of peace, in these environs?
I’ve had those days when simply stepping into a yoga studio or a wellness sanctuary helps me ‘drop in’ to that space where I’m better able to find that connection between breath and body, a sense of acceptance, or embody a more peace-filled presence. Is it the music, the quiet, the scent, the design, the energy of the space? Five days spent in a hospital was a beautiful reminder of the power of carrying yogic and mindfulness practices with you regardless of where you are to find that connection and energy within.
It started with my partner bringing me a few gem stones for the occasion- one for self-love, another for protection, a few for healing the organ that was screaming at me. Braless, in my hospital gown the go to method of tossing them in the brassiere to keep them close to the heart wasn’t an option, so I kept them as close as I could- between my body and the bed or under my pillow. Then I began running them through my fingers as a mindfulness practice; slowly, deliberately, with awakened senses to drop away from the constant sounds, the concern, the weight of people suffering around me and into the texture, the temperature, the feel of each stone. That space of being a fully present observer, giving the mind something to do so the body could experience a moment of simply being.
It became more clear in those forty five minutes in the strange white tunnel, surrounded by loud, insistent knocking and a remote voice saying ‘Hold your breath…and breathe’ …again and again and again.
The technician asks “Are you claustrophobic?”
“A bit,” I say with hesitancy.
“I can offer you a washcloth to cover your eyes,” he says.
“I would appreciate that, thank you”
Then he asks, “Will you have any problems holding your breath?”
A feeling of confidence builds inside as I realize I’ve been practicing for this for nearly 20 years now. “I have a regular yoga practice, so breathwork shouldn’t be a problem.”
He looks at me with hesitancy and I slide back into the tunnel. The holds-the space between the breaths- keep getting longer, and I find my rhythm, just as I have in sweet and steady vinyasa practice.
Exhale fully - inhale finding all three parts of the breath, expanding in all directions- hold- repeat.
“The last hold is thirty seconds,” he says. At this point in the practice, I’m no longer counting, simply exhaling, inhaling, holding, and exhaling again.
Shivasana - the end of the practice- or in this case, general anesthesia and surgery. Where to find that sense os surrender? With a meditation practice.
Leaving the all too familiar partial incline of the hospital bed I find my seat- fully upright, hips under shoulders, creating a balanced foundation for the head to stack upon. And I begin to drop into the rhythm of my breath as a team of doctors passes by for their morning round with my neighbor. I place the stones on my lap to remind me of my weight, rootedness, presence in my body and return to observing each breath. I find Ganesha mudra, a gesture that encourages the removal of obstacles, perseverance and a high or strong sprit. The words of the neighboring doctors begin to transform into a melodic drone in the background.
I find my mantra, “I am grateful for this breath, this body and it’s amazing ability to heal.”Repeating it rhythmically and silently with each exhale.
East and west converge.