Practice under the big tent
In 1967 Elvira Madigan, a film about a beautiful tight rope dancer who runs away with a nobleman lieutenant, was released to rave reviews. Set to Mozart’s lush Piano Concerto No. 21, the pastoral sound track includes chirping birds and buzzing insects. The scene is a Swedish countryside with little white butterflies flitting around green fields and country cottages. At the beginning Elvira takes a long rope out into the forest, ties it between two trees, and dances across it.
Being 16 years old when I first saw this movie, with all the requisite hormones, I was deeply stirred by its romantic beauty. In retrospect I’m not sure if it was because the story is about a passionate, doomed romance, if it was the lushness of the music, landscape and beautiful actors or if something else stirred such deep feelings in me. But after seeing Elvira walk on that thin line between the two trees I was struck by a burning desire to learn tight rope walking. When I shared this desire with a friend in the movie business he steered me to a ranch in the north San Fernando valley that trained stunt girls for the movies. It was there that I learned how to fly on the trapeze and walk on the tight rope.
Walking a tight rope is the paradigm of simplicity-no elaborate equipment or attire is needed, just a rope, or wire, tied between two sturdy objects and bare feet or socks. It requires no special equipment or training. What is required is precise balance, patience and determination. Elvira made dancing across the rope look graceful and easy. But when I tried it I landed in the ditch over and over again. As it turns out, although walking on the tight rope may look easy, it is actually extremely difficult to make it all the way across to the other tree.
Like tight rope walking, meditation is also simple-but not easy. The core instructions, sit and watch your mind, could not be more basic. Some traditions add scaffolding such as exact posture, an inquiry like, “Who am I?”, special sitting paraphernalia, counting breaths or labelling thoughts. But the bottom line is simply to be relaxed, aware and in the moment. That sounds easy. But staying focused as the mind cleverly discovers one escape route after another is like wrangling monkeys.
Like tight rope walking, meditation requires balance, patience and determination. We can only take one step, one moment, at a time. If we start thinking five steps ahead we fall in the ditch. If we start thinking about a clumsy step we took two paces back, we fall in the ditch. Falling out of the moment in meditation is considerably more challenging than falling into an actual ditch. Since there is nothing physical to let us know we’ve fallen we may not even be aware of the fall. Meditators learn how to use their mind to notice when the mind has strayed. Our mind is the ditch, the rope and the tight rope walker.
There is poetic beauty in both disciplines of wire walking and meditation. Their simplicity makes them open to all who are willing to put in the effort. They both test the resolve of an individual’s mental focus. They both have us moving through space and time one foot after the other. They both develop gracefulness and confidence.
I applaud all meditation athletes, old and new, for continuing to walk the line.