Hocus Focus

I knew it was time for a change when I passed a neighbor in Brooklyn recently and was unable to answer the simple question “How ya doing?” Yoga relaxes me, but it doesn’t always slow my brain down long enough for me to notice how I am. A little guided meditation seemed to be in order.

That’s how I found myself propped up on pink and purple velvety cushions last week in a candlelit Manhattan studio, where I was invited by a soothing voice to close my eyes and align my spine. I exhaled deeply, ready for peace and quiet at last.

Just then the distinct rum-pah-pum-pum of a drum leaked into the room. The teacher continued speaking calmly, but soon came the squeal of a horn section. It became clear that a full-on marching band was passing under the window.

“Follow your breath . . . or follow the marching band,” the teacher said.

What more cartoonish interruption could you dream up for this roomful of silence-seekers? How would I quiet my chitta vritti (Sanskrit for “fluctuations of the mind”)?

Instead of becoming frustrated, however, I applied the principles of meditation and didn’t waste energy trying to resist. There’s the drumbeat, I told myself as I noticed the sound, and there’s the trumpet. I watched the instruments go by in my head—and then, as the music grew fainter and fainter, I watched them leave my head.

This little musical interlude turned out to be the exercise I was looking for. And I intend to apply its lessons to the mini-meditations that I engage in some mornings right before my first cup of coffee. I fold a blanket and beach towel together as a makeshift meditation cushion, set my cell phone alarm to go off in five minutes, and sit completely still.

The only distraction I face at home is the clamor of my own thoughts. I’d like to get through the chitta vritti long enough to have an answer for my how-ya-doing neighbor. If not, I’ll at least be looking for the rhythm of my own drum.