What do you do when things don't go as planned?
Get annoyed? Agitated? Do you cry? Give up? Or dig in and try your best to keep going?
I have done all of these things. Repeatedly. And really, too many times to count.
Like you, I never wake up in the morning saying, I really hope things get completely turned upside-down today. Or, I hope things don't work out at all and I get completely blindsided with a litany of problems. With that in mind, lately (and quite miraculously!) I have found myself getting more comfortable with just that: uncertainty. Whether things will and do work out. The "ifs" of it all. Somewhere along the way I've become more flexible at handling unpredictable situations. And although it is often tough to see it at the time, this much is true: things not going as planned can often still mean things still work out in the end.
On a recent day, this was even more the case than usual.
With the help of some really great colleagues across campus, I help to run a lunchtime meditation series. It is an hour long. I serve a healthy lunch. We meditate. We talk. And before you know it, everyone is sent on their way, hopefully feeling a little lighter and more able to manage their stress.
Stress relief is important to everyone. We know this. But here I have found that it is especially important. Often students are very tightly wound, not knowing where to go to talk to someone or just let off a little steam. There are also a ton of cultural boundaries that can unhealthfully influence students, deterring them from getting help when they really need it. Luckily, due to a lot of outreach by a number of offices, the tide seems to be changing a little and students are more into seeking out ways to manage their stress, connect with others in the same situation and take a breather to collect their thoughts from time-to-time.
We use a particular room on campus to make the meditation "magic" happen. It is a decent-sized, quiet space that is centrally located on the second floor of a great building. There we have privacy and little foot traffic and doors that open and close quietly. Not much more you could ask for when trying to facilitate a program like this.
But this particular day we had been bumped from the magic room. Instead, we were relegated to the first floor, a dining room. Still, the room was bright and had a large table in the middle. I knew we'd be fine.
Until...
The facilitator started the program, asking some questions and having the students introduce themselves as they sat down around the table. We settled into the first meditation, with everyone closing their eyes and slowing their breathing. All of a sudden, a loud wave of laughter rippled through the air from the next room. And again. Apparently, a large luncheon that seemed to come out of nowhere was taking place and the noise was impossible to ignore. I had opened my eyes and I quietly exited the room to go and talk to the guilty party. It was a large table of students. Actually it was multiple large tables of students. I approached them very tactfully and explained who I was and the event that we were trying to have next door.
"Is there any chance you could lower your voices? Even if it's just for the next 20 minutes or so? I would really, really appreciate it," I explained.
Absolutely no response. I tried again. Yet again, nothing. Then it dawned on me: they did not speak English. I soldiered on, trying to use hand gestures and being very friendly and smiley to convey my point. But try to convey "meditation" and "lower your voices" in hand gestures to someone who does not speak English. It is not as easy as it sounds. Blank stares all around.
I realized my efforts were futile at this point and headed back in. As I did, I heard another noise behind me and turned towards the front door. There they were: about 30 schoolchildren were filing in. And they were doing what kids do best: asking questions, jumping around and, overall, making a ton of noise. They were led upstairs and I exhaled. Dodged a bullet on that one!
Or so I thought.
I returned to the meditation. The facilitator was asking the participants to share their thoughts on the exercise. The conversation was good. My attention got pulled back out of the room once more, though, as someone was moving furniture (and quite loudly so) in the living room-esque area right next to where we were. I quietly exited again and went to see what was up.
It was at that point that I met "Dougie Fresh", a student who was there to run a program, too.
"Hey, there," I started. "I'm trying to run a meditation event in the next room. What's set to happen here?"
"Oh, I'm not sure if you noticed it but there is a group of about 30 children here visiting from the inner-city. We're going to bring them in here and teach them how to break dance."
"Uh, is that going to be especially loud," I asked.
"Well," he laughed, "it's not going to be quiet."
It was at this point that I just smiled and went back to my group. Before we went into the last and longest meditation of the day, I tried to prepare them.
"Hey, so there is probably going to be some noise coming from the next room. If you happen to hear some hip hop music creeping in to your meditation, don't be alarmed. Hopefully it won't be too bad."
We settled in. And for about 30 seconds, everything was fine. But soon it started. It was like a Soul Train chugging right through the living room. The hip hop classic "Apache (Jump On It)" by the Sugarhill Gang blared. (If you don't know this song, YouTube it. Trust me, you do).
The facilitator spoke louder. She encouraged everyone to accept the noise instead of trying to ignore it. We all hung in there, eyes closed, trying to still our breathing and find the space between our thoughts. The music got even louder. And soon you could also hear the people dancing and explaining what they were doing to the children who were "oohing" and "ahh-ing".
It was at this point, sitting there with my hands on my lap and my eyes closed, that I just started laughing silently to myself. I knew students would complain after it was over so I just prepared myself for the worst and let myself laugh at the sheer hilarity of what was happening. The exercise eventually ended and we were advised to open our eyes. I opened mine.
I never could have predicted it: Everyone was smiling. And soon, everyone was laughing. Turns out the music and noise was a gift. The majority of the students explained how they often have trouble meditating because they have to deal with noises around them. This exercise, they said, taught them how to still find some calm within a seemingly non-calm environment surrounding them. They were forced to deal with the noise instead of just trying to ignore it, like they usually do. So in short, mission (and meditation) accomplished.
What problems are arising for you right now, seemingly out of thin air? What unpredictable moments are creeping into your days? Are you tackling them head on or just wishing they would go away? Whatever it is, and whatever kind of music is blaring in your own background, I hope you are able to accept the situation as is and try your best to get through with a little patience, a lot of breathing and a whole lot of humor. Predictability is often comfortable but can definitely get boring, too. Be open to that which comes out of nowhere. Maybe it is more a part of the plan than you realize.
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