Three years have passed since I started to practise Acem Meditation. Three years ago, I got into the habit of sitting with closed eyes in my favourite chair, meditating half an hour morning and evening. Honestly speaking, I should have started much earlier.
From what I know now, I think several things in my life would have been easier – such as the time when I was preparing for my coastal pilot exam.
But that is another story. I am a coastal pilot. My job is to escort ships along the coast of Norway. I work shifts; weeks on call, and weeks off. I like my job. There is a lot of travelling, meeting people of all kinds. The job is sometimes quite unpredictable, and that suits me well.
Three years ago in May, I was summoned to a shipwreck inquiry in the city of Bergen on the west coast of Norway. I had not been on board during the disastrous event, but I knew the vessel quite well from before. This was during the very popular annual music festival in that city, so I had a hard time finding somewhere to stay. I ended up sharing a hotel room with an expert from the Norwegian Maritime Directorate. When I returned to the hotel room after dinner one evening, I found him sitting in bed. He had been meditating, he said quietly. I still remember him. He was a rather young fellow with large glasses. Meditating?! I was taken by surprise, did not know what to say, but I could not contain my curiosity. I hardly knew what he was talking about. I do not remember the exact conversation. Presumably, I put the same questions to him that people frequently ask me now. But I remember one thing; I had this clear feeling that I wanted to know more. Something about this intrigued me.
At that time, my temperament brought me into both calm, easy waters as well as into brisk and rapid sailing. I had been working as a coastal pilot for a little over a year, after two years as a second officer on a coastal ship. The change had been tough on my family. I had to study hard. I guess I was rather annoying to live with at the time when I had to pass the coastal pilot exam. It was a challenge to learn by heart all the details about the coastline. At the same time, my hard-pressed wife had most of the care of our four children, one newly born. In addition, we were building a house. To save money, we had planned to do part of the work ourselves. According to memory, that year was like a nightmare in my life. I had a hard time falling asleep at night, I frequently snapped at the children, and I often felt quite exhausted. Many times, I would sink into an easy chair in front of the TV at night, and I hardly got up again. I did not contribute much at home, either in the house or in the garden. At the same time, I had this feeling that I was done, that I had come as far in my life as I was able to. Sometimes I felt other parts of me yearning to be put to use, but I did not have the energy to listen, far less to do anything about them. I had more than enough just to keep up with the demands of everyday life.
When I look back, it seems obvious why I would not let go of my meditating friend from the Maritime Directorate before he had responded to all my questions. I kept him awake for a long time that night. Now and then, he tried to say that he could only answer for himself. Why not go to an introductory meeting or read more about Acem Meditation, he suggested? In the end, he fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he sat there meditating. Again.
When autumn came, I went to an introductory meeting.
I tried to get my wife, Anna, to come along with me. With a smile, she plainly refused by saying that someone had to stay awake and put things straight if I would get lost in meditation. She wanted to see first what good meditation would do for me.
At this meeting, the room was half-full of people. I do not know what I expected, but everyone seemed rather normal and adequate. It came across as reassuring when embarking on something like this. The two speakers also seemed quite ordinary. I looked closely at them when they spoke about relaxation, openness and personality development. The two passed the test; both seemed reliable, no hard sell and yet enthusiastic. Not that it mattered much; I had already made up my mind to start. I sat there hoping that meditation might solve most of my problems, but the idea did not survive the introductory meeting. The lecturers had another perspective; their promises were firm yet sober and modest. In addition, they emphasized that meditation did not solve problems, but it could provide more inner strength or new perspectives for seeing things that could add to problem-solving capacity.
Then, there was time for questions and answers. Something bothered me, and therefore, I asked: ‘Is everyone capable of meditating?’ The answer was encouraging. Other questions kept coming from the audience. I especially remember one guy with a red beard, who kept on asking and asking. They responded, but he seemed so sceptical that I thought, ‘That fellow will never start’. But he did. He completed the registration form just like the rest of us. Then, we were ready.
I still remember the mood I was in that evening when I left the place after my first meditation. It was a Sunday, and early that morning, when we had gone for a walk as a family, the weather was nice. For that reason, I did not bring an umbrella in the evening when going to the meditation class. However, as I headed home, it rained heavily. Before I got to the bus stop, I was soaking wet. Somehow, the weather change signified that an auspicious event had taken place; from now on my life would be different, I felt. In the next chain of thoughts, I said firmly to myself: ‘Rubbish. Do not get flaky’. Today, irrespective of the weather change on that day, I am inclined to say that there was some truth to those intuitions; meditation really brought something new into my life. But saying that would be to advance too fast. Let me backtrack and go over in more detail what happened. Together with the beginners who were waiting for their first instructions, I was not the only person who seemed excited about what was going to happen. I knew there were two ways of introducing people into meditation: an individual instruction or a group instruction. The format depends on the location and the teacher.
Our instructor, Mrs Cecilia Johnsen, was a woman in her forties. Particularly, I noticed how she held her pencil when writing – between the ring finger and the little finger. Later, she also impressed me in other ways. During my individual instruction, we exchanged a few words about my life, about meditating and the procedures ahead. Finally, we were ready. Sit comfortably on the chair, she said in a gentle manner. Close your eyes for a moment, and just calm down. Many faint thoughts went through my head – partly related to this odd situation, partly due to expectations, partly due to excitement about what would follow. Then she asked me to open my eyes, and she told me to repeat the meditation sound after her. The meditation sound was nothing like what I had imagined. As I followed her instructions, the surroundings, Mrs Johnsen, the sounds, the lights – everything was there. However, I was sinking into a relaxed calmness. Gradually, a subtle sense of heaviness was spreading in my arms, body and legs. A couple of times, the instructor gave me further directions about what to do internally. Then I was led to an adjacent room to meditate for the first time on my own. There were a few other beginners in the room. I closed my eyes and started. Silently repeating the sound mentally whilst thoughts, images and sensations emerged and passed by; it was actually quite pleasant. Someone was playing pop music on the floor above us. I heard the person next to me breathing. After a while, sounds became less important. I sank further into a pleasant relaxation. Thoughts were gently coming and going. All the time, I was conscious and aware of what was going on. Sometimes my hands and shoulders jerked slightly – at the same time, my mind and body were quiet. After a while, I felt sleepy and calm. I really did not know how long I had been sitting. About 15-20 minutes, I guessed. In a way, the meditation gave me no clear sense of time. Later, I learnt that I had been sitting for 30 minutes.
When the instructor reappeared and said that the time was up, I was startled. It felt like waking up even though I had not been sleeping. Afterwards, we discussed the meditation experience in a small group. Some were quite relaxed; others were more eager to make sure that they had done it correctly. The instructor confirmed in most cases that what we had done or experienced was OK. After a few clarifications and some reassurance, we were done, and she handed out a booklet with some advice and explanations for beginners. My start was over. It was not very exciting or spectacular, but the weather had changed; the rain had softened things and made all the layers of my clothes rather wet.
Anna had a good laugh when I returned home dripping: ‘You seem to be getting wet whatever you are doing, leaving the pilot boat or learning to meditate’. Even so, she was curious about my learning experience. I told her everything over supper except the meditation sound; that was mine, and mine alone. I kept it to myself as instructed, that would be the best for both of us.
I do not remember much other than that meditation was a new and exciting experience – something I did faithfully every day. Nothing dramatic or epoch-making happened. At first, meditation brought me into the very same calmness, almost like what I felt when I had my first meditation. After a while – I started to fall asleep rather easily at night. This was the first time I heard Anna murmur that well, OK... perhaps….
But sometimes I felt a sort of tension when I was meditating. Something slightly disagreeable arose, which did not fit with my expectations of both becoming relaxed and feeling good. I did not say anything about this to my wife. But I told my instructor, my pencil-holding friend, when we had a group meeting a few days later. This was when I realized how good her knowledge and skills about meditation were. But let me tell about this second meeting after the beginning.
We were a group of about 10 people and started by meditating for 30 minutes together. At first, it was a bit odd to sit in silence with so many people for so long; but it was a good experience. The group interaction started with a round of introductions. We learnt that our instructor was a high school teacher. The initial reticence between group members about getting acquainted quickly dissolved. Most of us had several questions and comments. The group meetings were important. There were so many things to share and to discuss regarding the unfamiliar inner waters of meditation. The instructor, Mrs Johnsen, appeared to be genuinely interested in our many enquiries. Some were preoccupied with experiences during meditation; ‘Was this and that correct, did it signify something?’ Time and again, our instructor emphasized that ‘right’ and ‘good’ meditation is not characterized or validated by specific experiences. What you do is more important than what you feel or experience, she emphasized. What really matters during meditation is the effortless repetition of the meditation sound, and that the meditator simultaneously allows mental images, thoughts and sensations to come and go freely.
For that reason, a person should not meditate with any particular expectation, but rather accept whatever comes and goes. He is not to try to get into or away from something. In other words: the meditator should be all-including and non-judgmental about the content. Correct meditation involves a free, open mental attitude and no effort to change what passes through the awareness – whether it feels good or bad, insignificant or fascinating, she explained.
I needed to hear these basic points repeated and elaborated time and again in different ways before they sank in, before I got the gist of those central principles. The group meetings were a source of major inspiration for understanding the practice and overcoming some minor hurdles and misunderstandings, but also for making meditation an integral part of my daily routine.
I cannot deny that I sailed into a kind of enthusiastic frenzy about meditation during those first months. I looked around, and I saw so many people struggling with their lives – with stress, bad feelings about themselves, poor sleep, bodily aches and pains, etc. In my view at that time: they all needed this meditation! So, in my enthusiasm, I ‘evangelized’ to friends, acquaintances and at the pilot station about meditation and its ‘glorious’ benefits. I was a bit uncritical for a while. I even tried to get the captain of a Danish 100,000-tonner to meditate when he told me he was troubled by insomnia. I do not think anyone I spoke to was completely without interest, but they were a bit put off by my intensity. Gradually, I noticed an attitude of indulgence from some of those around me – they conveyed in tacit ways that ‘it will eventually pass’. I got the point and stopped saying a single word about what I was doing. Now, I respond to questions when someone asks me. Beyond that, I have adopted a rather laid-back attitude towards informing others about meditation.
My daily life with meditation had started. The habit of meditating became more stable, the enthusiasm tapered off, and in a way, meditating felt a bit trivial – one of those things you just do daily, like brushing your teeth. I meditated regularly every day because I noticed that it did me good. My sleep improved. I had more energy during the day for work and social relations, and I was less snappy with family. Meditating in the afternoons was not a problem. Anna took care of the children while I had my half-hour. Incredibly quickly, the children got into the habit of being considerate: ‘Hush! Be quiet! Dad is meditating!’ In a way, they not only tolerated my meditation, they seemed to appreciate it as some kind of ‘dad’s de-stressing’. When I was finished and felt on a par again, I actually enjoyed helping Anna with the children and the chores around the house.
The mornings were worse. I tend to go to sleep late. Accordingly, I was often tired and grumpy when waking up. Luckily, Anna is an early bird, and she often got me up. Gradually, I think she had realized that meditation made me easier to get along with, and she supported me in getting my half-hours. After some time, I actually slept much better, so I was no longer half-dead when waking up.
The only problem was working shifts, the irregular life involved in serving ships. When I am on call, I stay within an earshot of the mobile. Boats do not care about normal work-hours. At short notice, they come and go at any time, day or night. Certainly, they would not heed a pilot’s wish for getting his meditation done. When on call, I did not always get my half-hours. Not much to do about that. However, with time, I found ways to meditate regularly while still fulfilling the duties of my job.
During the beginner’s course, our instructor covered several topics. Some of them were quite far from what I usually deal with: psychological explanations and existential challenges are not the everyday fare for a coastal pilot. Even so, I noticed that some of those issues popped up in my mind in the days after the meetings. Not only did they clarify aspects of my meditation, but they also touched upon some life issues that I was entangled in.
In retrospect, the beginner’s course turned out to be quite important. Often, I utilize what I learnt there in my meditation. In addition, the follow-up courses and the retreats after the beginner’s course were also of great importance. Gradually, they made me realize that it takes months and even years of regular practice to gain a broader, experience-based understanding of this type of meditation and of how it all works.
Towards the end of the beginner’s course, there was another new aspect of meditating that, over time, I have come to enjoy a lot: long meditation in groups. At first, one and a half hours seemed rather hefty, but our instructor encouraged us to try. Long meditation speeds up and intensifies the meditation process and helps the meditator deal with deeper levels of stress, she explained. Afterwards, there is always a group or individual discussion of the experiences and challenges led by a qualified instructor.
I entered a room with a large group of people. When all were comfortably seated, we started. Lights were dimmed. Let me share at once: the time passed surprisingly fast in spite of some restlessness that I had also experienced during my regular half-hours at home. I was relaxing more than I had become used to in my daily meditation. For a while, I became stiff, my shoulders and neck started aching, but subsequently, those aches disappeared. That same day and in the following days, I felt at ease, more energetic, relaxed and more content. Another good thing: after long meditation, important details of my practice were easier to spot. I made some helpful adjustments in my way of repeating the sound, and I gained new insight from the group discussion.
Some of the people from my beginner’s group enrolled for a follow-up course. Mrs Johnsen said that meeting and sharing experiences on a regular basis would provide valuable support and inspiration for continued practice at home. I decided not to go. Instead, Anna joined the next beginner’s course and I had to work several extra days at that time as a colleague had fallen ill. My wife and I, we both felt that there was a limit to the number of nights we were willing to hire babysitters for the children. So, I confined myself to subscribing to the Acem Magazine, and occasionally, I looked at the Acem web page and read excerpts from themeditationblog.com. Intuitively, I wanted to stay connected.
After about six months something happened. In hindsight, I realize that it was a rather common experience for many Acem meditators. However, I did not know that at the time. Without really wanting to, I became more careless about meditating regularly. I slept well at night, and I felt quite relaxed during the day. My meditations had somehow become sort of unimportant to me; they were a bit ‘dull’. I skipped meditating every so often. Also, I was a bit envious of the beginner enthusiasm of my wife, Anna. Had it not been for her, I might have dropped out of meditating entirely. In subtle ways, I became sceptical. I had objections to the whole thing: to ‘wasting’ two half-hours daily on being ‘self-centred’; I had doubts about the effects of the meditation sound and of repeating it; I was sceptical about the instructors, the organization and its voluntary work; and I had doubts about the intentions behind it. The time between each meditation became longer and longer.
However, I had already established the habit that, in life, when I start something, I tend to complete it. When the spring break was over - entirely without any meditation - I pulled myself together, called my instructor and made an appointment for guidance. To be honest, I remember this session as a big disappointment. For half an hour, Mrs Johnsen asked me about my meditation practice from start to end, what I did and felt when sitting down and in between. Her many questions made me slightly exasperated, without conveying anything to her. I had expected her to explain stuff to me, to teach me some tricks and not to be so inquisitive about my practice, what I experienced, what I did and how I felt. Many of her questions, I really could not answer. I did not tell her, but towards the end, I felt the session had been a waste of time.
Nevertheless, several of her questions lingered in my mind – what would be the right answers? I could not help trying to figure out. For some reason, my meditation was quite easy and relaxed the next morning. It dawned on me that my way of meditating had drifted away from the free mental attitude. I asked myself: ‘Had the many questions helped me in some way?’
A little later, meditating became difficult and the time between sessions lengthened again. I felt my stomach turning at the mere thought of sitting down to meditate; I fumbled with the meditation sound, the free mental attitude and all those thoughts and sensations. There were so many other things I would rather be doing! After some time, I stopped meditating again.
Early on, meditating had eased several issues in my life, but now my job as a coastal pilot was getting more demanding. The traffic had increased dramatically due to the oil ventures in the North Sea. Often, I was guiding ships northward along the coast, and, since the Norwegian coast is really stretched out, it often took close to a week before I was home again. In addition, it was Anna’s turn. She needed more time to study for her university qualifying exams; this was an old agreement between us long before I had started my training as a coastal pilot. Accordingly, I took a beating from the heavy pressure again: heaps of work, lots to do at home, two kids with earaches every so often. Things got out of hand. Again, I could not sleep well at night. I felt stressed and unwell; the world seemed to contract around me.
One of those huge steel constructions made for the oilfields got me out of it again. Contrary to plan, the rig had ended up in one of our fjords due to bad weather when it was towed, and later, it had to be moved to a dockyard for repairs. The skipper on board was American. He refused to use more than the two tugboats he had in front. I tried to get him to understand that there is a difference between sailing in the open sea and between the skerries, but he could not comprehend why we would need a tugboat at the aft to slow down the monster when it gathered momentum. He wanted to pinch and scrape. I still get angry when I think about it, that I gave in to him instead of ordering the tugboat. Of course, the story ended with the beast severely damaging a pier. Maritime declaration, enquiries, scolding, nagging, snappishness and drudgery…
‘My busy guy’, Anna said, ‘perhaps you should start meditating again?’ Yeah, perhaps I should, I thought reluctantly, but at the next opportunity, I sat down and closed my eyes. Again, I lived through the tugging, the enquiry, words and feelings – somewhat taxing. In fact, I started to sweat in the initial part of my meditation, but gradually, as I got out of the storm, things inside me calmed down slowly. It was wonderful to regain that relaxed inner tranquillity, and after each sitting, to be able to deal with the challenges of life with a sense of inner strength. I was meditating daily during that week. Slowly, I regained my old self.
Both Anna and I had been quite overburdened for a while, so we decided that it was time to allow ourselves a weekend retreat of meditation. My mother-in-law looked after the children. The retreat was held at a boarding house. We were some 20 participants and a couple of instructors. The program included periods of long meditation, plenty of opportunities for sleep, interactive seminars and group discussions, as well as social interaction. We were offered individual guidance. This time I grasped a lot better why the instructor kept on asking me all those questions. I was more available and able to respond. The retreat helped me understand more about my meditation process and how my inner challenges were connected to issues in my current and past life. In fact, I had a few ‘aha’-experiences.
Home again, it was like having been in dock for an overhaul; I felt at ease and in good spirits.
At first, I did not realize how intertwined our meditation is with who we are, our life history and what we do. The discovery of the depths of Acem Meditation was puzzling, quite fascinating and inspiring, but also a little scary.
After the retreat, I did not hesitate to enroll for the follow-up course to get more beacons to navigate by in my meditation process. In the group at the course, there was a clear case of what issues this meditation could bring about. A quiet and rather shy housewife had become much freer, more self-assertive in a positive way, less self-conscious and inhibited. But she told us that her family found her pretty hopeless and selfish of late after she had learnt to meditate. They wanted her to stop, and she – poor thing – was wondering if she should act accordingly for the sake of peace at home.
However, we supported her to carry on; our understanding of the situation was different. When a person is changing, he or she will have to test new attitudes and behaviours in relation to the social environment. Initially, this may be done clumsily, and sometimes in an exaggerated manner. Often, those around may want to push that person back into the habitual and well-known behaviours. Her changes were probably the reason why her family found her ‘selfish’, that they felt she was behaving strangely and in awkward ways. Anyway, her story ended well.
So, how has meditation added to my life? The follow-up courses, together with long meditation and week-long retreats, gave me an experience-based understanding of Acem Meditation. There are many subtle forces played out in the periphery of awareness in this practice. No longer, I believe, will I become easy prey to resistance, distractions and diversions from the unconscious. Inevitably, such phases will reappear – but hopefully, they will not so readily blow me off course.
I think it is fair to say that I am a bit more empathic and patient now; perhaps I am more capable of catering to the needs of others than just guiding ships in narrow waters or driving the children to school. A while ago, I revived an old passion: I started playing my saxophone. It took some courage to blow off the dust. Now, I am playing regularly in an amateur jazz band; it brings me joy. In addition, I have…. No, let’s keep it at that. Of course, we have our differences, Anna and I, but the extra energy and the insight make our hurdles somewhat easier to overcome. At least, problems in life no longer end up so easily in bodily aches and pains, and seldom is my sleep ruined. As we see things now, both Anna and I believe that we will continue to keep meditation an essential, yet quiet part of our lives.
What else do I get from meditation? Many things are hard to put into words, but let me express myself this way: I am more committed and able to bring meaning into my life. Often, meditation helps me clarify what I want and understand why I react as I do. And when the demands of life overwhelm me, I find it easier to get back in touch with my inner self and regain my strength. I think I am more independent and self-reliant, while at the same time, I am finding it easier to rely more on others and develop trusting relationships. Expectations and demands do not so easily make me stressed. I am enjoying life more. Also, my perception of nature, scenery and art is different. A dimension of depth and enrichment has been added to my life. It all is based on the daily experience of the powerful meditative silence within.