Monkey Mind, Meditation, and Caregiving

howler monkeys

You’ve heard the expression “monkey mind” when referring to the distracting thoughts that jump like monkeys when one is attempting to be still.  These days, when I sit to meditate, I have an entire troupe of howler monkeys yammering and flinging themselves about in my mind.  I’ve been meditating for a long time, so I know the guidelines: when you notice you’re off the mantra, gently come back to it.

Maybe it was the familiarity of the process, or maybe it was the overflow of emotions, worries, plans, and obligations that have beset me since I’ve become a caregiver.  Whatever the cause, my former simple practice of repeating “Om namah shivaya” (the mantra of Siddha Yoga, translated as “I honor the Light within”) wasn’t working.

A teacher of a class we took introduced me to a different type of meditation/prayer. This method has proved to be helpful for me.  I’m mostly attracted to the feminine aspect of the Great Mystery/Higher Power, so I’ve amended the sentence “Be still and know that I am God” to “Be still and know that I am the Mother and the Light.”  For me, “Mother” encompasses divine love and compassion, while “Light” represents wisdom and clarity.  By offering my mind more to do, I’ve found a way to move those howler monkeys to a distant tree.

Here’s my practice:

I hold my left hand in chin mudra, with thumb and forefinger touching.  The fingers on my right hand track the mantra and prayer by gently pressing my thigh as I silently go through the words, like this:

Inhale: Om namah shivaya

Exhale: Thumb–Be still and know that I am the Mother and the Light.

Inhale: Om namah shivaya

Exhale: Forefinger–Be still and know that I am.

Inhale: Om namah shivaya

Exhale: Middle finger–Be still and know.

Inhale: Om namah shivaya

Exhale: Fourth finger: Be still and feel my presence.

Inhale: Om namah shivaya

Exhale: Pinky–Be grateful.

Note that the mantra can be any word or phrase that has meaning for you and focuses on Spirit. In the midst of full-time caregiving, this process has helped me recapture the deeper calm and solace of meditation.

Do let me know if you try this.  I’m curious to hear if it works for others.

virgen de guadalipe

Dog Days and Dementia

weimar pose

 

I can’t decide if comparing my husband/care-receiver to a dog is funny or pathetic.  However, the similarities between pets’ care and behavior and my guy are hard to dismiss.  Here are some:

  • He shadows me everywhere, wanting to be by my side.
  • He gets anxious when he doesn’t know where I am.
  • He loves to go for car rides.
  • He sneaks food if I’m not watching.
  • He makes messes that I clean up.
  • He barks at other dogs (true).
  • He’s loving and loyal.
  • He’s grateful for my attention.

Many other caregivers, on reading this, will deem me fortunate.  Dementia patients can be cantankerous and ungrateful.  As yet, my dementia dog-man is agreeable and appreciative, which makes the caregiving easier.

When we’re out walking and we see someone with a dog, he says, “I’m glad we don’t have a dog.  They’re so much work.”

I say a silent, “Amen to that!”

tired Irish wolf

 

 

 

Compassion and Guilt

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Caregiving 24/7 often feels like a rollercoaster of emotions. The two up there in the title are Big and Frequent for me.  Compassion: How horrible it must be to literally lose one’s mind!  How awful to be so dependent!  How frightening to search for words and not find them!

Reality intervenes.  Is it anxiety or forgetfulness that prompts the persistent questions I get daily: Where are we going? (4 times en route), Do the tulips need water? (three times during breakfast).  Who is coming over?  When are we getting the car back from the mechanic?  I can’t discern whether it’s his anxiety or memory, but–alas!–I do become impatient.

So then comes the guilt. I “should” on myself.  I shouldn’t snap back.  I shouldn’t use that tone of voice.  He can’t help it. I should be kinder, more patient, more forgiving, more COMPASSIONATE, more–more–more.  Give me my hairshirt and lash.

Compassion does come from the outside as well.  Some friends offer visits, outings, understanding, golden ears that just listen to me whine.  But there’s another kind of compassion that isn’t necessarily helpful.  There are folks who want to help by offering ways to fix the problem.  They provide suggestions about herbal supplements and links to websites that tell how to reverse dementia.

I’m ashamed to say that my initial reaction is negative.  You’re asking me to do more than I’m doing already?  I already make weekly rounds with doctors, provide activities and entertainment, meals, transportation–and now I have to watch infomercials and read articles about magic bullets?  My first thought is No, thanks.  

But then I think: What if?  What if the brain tonic helps?  And so off I go into cyberspace, just in case.

If I find a cure, I’ll certainly let you know.