The last week of the month we typically have a silent meeting, alternating sitting meditation, walking meditation, and more sitting meditation. This week, however, we decided to start the meeting with a brief talk about “form” in meditation. Form is the term used in Buddhist practice for meditation protocol, such as how to enter the meditation room (“zendo”), how to handle the sitting cushions, when to bow in respect to fellow meditators and so on.

When I started practicing meditation thirty-some years ago, I rankled at the formality and the seeming rigidity of Buddhist form. I don’t like rules. And, there were so many aspects to keep track of; it was difficult not to feel like a “flunkie” in form. One time when a rather shaming temple coordinator scolded me for bowing incorrectly, I burst into tears, burning with shame. I have come to see it quite differently over time.

Tonight I was giving a short talk on the elements of zendo etiquette. As we discussed the various facets of proper meditation form, I emphasized how all the various instructions actually offer an exercise in mindfulness. The meditation room is a practice ground for sobriety and life. When we enter the meditation room or sit on the cushion, as with life, we need to be “not too tight but not too loose.” Here. Aware. Not berating ourselves for our slip-ups, but tightening up if need be. Oh, tuned out for a moment there, better notice what you’re doing. Or, easing up. Not a big deal that you forgot to bow, sweetie. We can tune in, let form help us be in the here and now.

Do we walk with awareness of our body, as we do when we take each step in walking meditation, grateful for the miraculous way it takes us to and fro?

Do we notice the things we use in our daily life, like the appreciation we express with our bow to the meditation cushions, acknowledging their service to us?

Do we approach each movement, from our body’s posture to our mind’s thoughts, with our full attention?

Meditation trains us to let each small act in our ordinary life become a living prayer. No need to escape. How extraordinary.

Tonight the air is crisp and the sky sodden with gray rain clouds, matching the heavy energy in the meeting room. Early spring in Minnesota can be hard for recovering people. As Bart R., this evening’s speaker, says, “At this time of year, junkies are coming out of the woodwork.” Maybe it has something to do with the long winter months finally coming to an end, and the accompanying squirrely, cabin-fever feeling.

I’m always happy to see Bart. He embodies joy, like a sun ray breaking through the dreariness. He is more than energetic about recovery, perhaps due to the low lows he hit during his heroin addiction. He starts the round of introductions with, “Hi, I’m Bart. I’m a junkie and recovering schizophrenic.” These days he stays on his meds, mostly.

Now he sits erect on the meditation cushion, wavy brown hair framing his face softened by candlelight, Paul-Newman-blue eyes burning with life. Tonight’s topic is Step 7 of Alcoholics Anonymous, “Humbly asked [God] to remove our shortcomings.” It will be interesting to see how Bart weaves together thoughts on mindfulness meditation and this step. Sometimes I joke and say that when Bart gets started, it’s like he’s on a “Buddhist rant:” intense, inspired, and astute.

True to form, Bart has memorized a Buddhist sutra (scripture) and is chanting it aloud, voice clear and sweet like a child’s. With a melody of his own composition, he is intoning a teaching on loving-kindness. The same words repeat themselves time and time again, telling us to hold a warm heart toward ourselves and others.

Why is this meditation useful when working Step 7 in recovery? Bart says it is because our shortcomings and defects of character grow out of a sense of deficiency: the feeling that we re not good enough, the fear that there is not enough love…money…or safety. We’ve been trying to fill the emptiness with our addictions and dependencies. Or, we’ve been trying to banish what we don’t like about ourselves or others, only managing to worsen the craving. Instead, we can open to the grace of Loving-Kindness. Place our fearful selves in its arms.

After the talk, we typically allow time for members of the group to comment and share their stories. After a few moments of silence, one member told of his struggle with a sense of not being good enough, and how he had attempted to escape by using drugs and alcohol. Another spoke of finding the warmth of 12-Step meetings to be an antidote to the loneliness she has experienced since being a teen. Several others joined in sharing stories, some sad, some humorous. The meeting ended with the group standing to recite the familiar, “We-version” of the Serenity Prayer.

I went to sleep that night, remembering the sound of Bart’s chanting, feeling the vibration of Buddha’s teaching, lightened.