Zen and the raisin

If only I had a raisin.

Seems like there’s always something standing in the path of my peace of mind. 

How can a person cultivate mindfulness, one of the primary components of happiness, if there’s no raisin in the house? 

I bought raisins specifically for this purpose!  Little boxes of raisins. 

But before I could settle in to test the “casual” practice of Raisin Meditation – to cultivate mindfulness, reduce stress, and enjoy everyday pleasures – some of the crass male-types in my home consumed my wrinkled talismen.  How gauche!

No Zen state for you!

Oh we have cranberries!  But what good is a cranberry in a situation like this?  Not the same.  A distraction. 

Bananas?  Yes, we have no bananas.  But we do have clementines!  So cute!  And yummy.  But alas, flawed by virtue of their relative size and the simple fact that Greater Good in Action,Science-Based Practices for a Meaningful Life, calls for a RAISIN!

How else can you have Raisin Meditation?  Duh.

This is a perfect example of the difficulties of the modern age.  A person seeking her center, that well of serenity deep within, goes about collecting the necessary items to facilitate a deep, deep meditative state.  She builds a nest of contentment where she plans to delve daily for the requisite period of five minutes required of someone like herself, a casual chaser of sagacity, and her raisins are devoured in a savage act of mindlessness!

Just so you’re aware – if you want actual perception of the cosmos, you have to move up to a 15 minute commitment at the “moderate” level of happiness building, perhaps with a “Savoring Walk.” 

Then of course, you’ll go to “intense,” with one of the strenuous practices unheard of in the 21^st Century, like Active Listening.

Forget it.  I will start small.  I live in the real world after all!  Greater Good can’t expect me to drop everything in my modern life and just walk around all day long savoring things!  Yeesh! 

What does it entail, “savoring”?  Relishing?  Cherishing?  Who has the time? 

Don’t get me wrong.  I savor.  I devote precious moments to treasuring stuff!  On occasion.  Just this afternoon I was appreciating my shoe horn. 

But, I don’t want to go crazy!  Over meditate.  There are bound to be dangers there, right?  I mean you can’t go totally OM without some repercussions.  You have to develop a tolerance!

Better to start small and build on your success, right?  Baby steps.

So, casually, “by increasing awareness of internal mental and physical states, mindfulness can help people gain a greater sense of control over their thoughts, feelings, and behavior in the present moment.” 

Thus, Raisin Meditation.  I’ll buy my Sun Maids – hide them in my sock drawer! – and I’ll be ready to transcend.  

Let’s review the process:  Oh good.  A simple, eight step system that will send me on my way to nirvana.  Or at least on a Savory Walk.

So here we go – Raisin Meditation: 

Step 1.  Holding: Take a raisin and hold it in the palm of your hand or between your finger and thumb.  Check.

Step 2.  Seeing: Take time to really focus on the raisin; gaze at the raisin with care and full attention.  Oka-a-ay. 

Examine the highlights, where the light shines, the darker hollows, the folds and ridges, and any asymmetries or unique features. 

I don’t know.  That’s a lot of seeing.  But whatever.

3. Touching: Turn the raisin over between your fingers, exploring its texture.  Maybe do this with your eyes closed if that enhances your sense of touch. 

I can see why a private place is best.

4. Smelling: Hold the raisin beneath your nose.  As you do this, notice anything interesting that may be happening in your mouth or stomach. 

Interesting?  It will take more than one raisin for my tummy to take notice.  Can we cut to the chase here? 

Yadda yadda yadda; 5, 6, 7 and 8 – placing, tasting, swallowing, and following.

Wait – “Following”? 

Step 8.  Following: See if you can feel the raisin moving down into your stomach and sense how your body as a whole is feeling after you have completed this exercise.


Hungry.  Enlightened maybe, but hungry definitely.  

Enlightenment and the Whisker

I have a recurring whisker.

As God is my witness, I’ve plucked it out a hundred times with follicle enough to satisfy any forensic scientist on a mission to peg the most heinous of criminals.  And yet…it grows!

Stiff and proud.  Persistent.  Like General MacArthur to my chin, it returns.

And that’s why I couldn’t meditate.

The struggle started simply enough:  Let me just add to my already impressive repertoire of life-affirming practices, I said.  I cannot be satisfied with what some might call remarkable.  No!  Let me transcend the remarkable and rise into the stratosphere of the extraordinary. 

Let me meditate!

Yes!  Let me sit quietly and draw my breath from the ancient oxygen that permeates my soul.  I will inhale with the cosmos.  I will tap the wisdom of the universe!  I will…OK, you get the idea:  I thought I’d try to meditate. 

Following the time-honored rituals of ZenHabits.com, I settled into a straight-backed chair.  I let my hands rest naturally and comfortably in my lap.  Or on top of each other.  Or side by side.  Or on the armrests making that little ‘OK’ sign the truly serene make.

I closed my eyes.

I began breathing deeply and fully.  I focused on my breath and nothing else.

And just as the internet gurus directed me, when a thought came, I acknowledged that thought.  “Hello Thought,” I would say. 

Then, just as the masters do, I let that thought pass.  “Good-bye Sweet Thought!”  And back to concentrating on my breath.

I’m on my way!  I’m meditating!  I feel my third eye opening and enlightenment gathering around me! 

But then…inexplicably…my thumb was drawn to the whisker.  The whisker wanted recognition. 

No worries.  Just acknowledge the thing:  Hello Whisker.

And Good-bye Sweet Whisker…right?

But the Whisker would not go.  It would not be denied.  Like the White Whale, the Whisker tasked me. 

The Whisker sang a siren song.  I couldn’t leave it alone.  Each time I bid it adieu, it returned, calling to my thumb with irresistible determination.  Like Glenn Close in that creepy movie where she stalked Michael Douglas after their escapades in the elevator and he tried to blow her off after their one night stand when his wife was out of town:  My Whisker declared it would not be ignored!

OK.  Mellow!  Mellow!  We’ll just breathe our way through this.  What does PsychCentral.com say about cases like this?  Here we go:  Use an alternate meditation technique: “Being with Sound.” 

Designed for dealing with just such distractions to the process, the novice meditator is directed first to find “really calming music.”  Then, simply focus on the sound of the music and nothing else.  Put all your attention on the sound.

OK, Pandora here we go.  Classical!  That’s it.  No wait!  Nature music!  What could be more soothing or easier to disregard than the tweeting of sparrows and the rustle of leaves?  A piccolo.  Perfect!  Noodling faintly.  Oh yes!  So tranquil.

But the Whisker would not rest.  It would not be displaced by Pan and his flute. 

For a moment, I despaired.

But no!  I will not surrender to a hair!  No errant weed will rule my world!  I am master of my composure!

I dashed to the tweezers, leaned close to the magnifying mirror and snagged the offender.  I uprooted him without ceremony or remorse.  Ha!  Contentment is mine!

Returning to my sacred spot, I settled again.  I closed my eyes and found the dulcet piccolo and the gurgling brook.  Inhale.  Yes.

But wait.  What’s this?  Oh no.  My thumb has returned to the smooth spot where the Whisker once was and where it again will be.

Like the phantom leg of an amputee, the Whisker calls.  It bids my surrender.  Resistance is futile.

Then at last I understood; The Whisker would be my talisman, my only point of focus, my mantra.  Whisker, Whisker, Whisker! 

Oh Great and Powerful Whisker, take me to the empty core of my being so that I can plumb the depths of universal wisdom.

I stroke that place with my thumb knowing the Whisker’s resurrection mirrors the eternal cycle of life, death and re-sprouting-over-night that we all are bound to experience.


At last I am at peace.  Om.