The adventures of Ms. Scarlet, or how I flunked Meditation 101

"I started visualizing a Saturday Night Live skit from bygone days with Dan Akroyd as the man in the chair, Gilda Radner with her big, fuzzy hair seated on a floor mat, putting in oversized earplugs."”

Away we go!

It’s my first crack at writing a column, so an intro might be beneficial! I live in Ely and am an employee of the Timberjay. My official title at the TJ is Graphic Artist/Ely Salesperson/Assistant Dog Dish Filler. I enjoy the variety of my job and also the bosses’ dog, Penny. She is a great dog and I am fortunate to know her and have a job that I enjoy.

I’ve been involved in many projects during my eight years at the Timberjay, some of which include putting together ads for the Real Estate Guides, The Fun Times Magazine, various promotions and printed materials for customers. In recent times, I have enjoyed doing some feature writing as well.

Born and raised with my two brothers in Hoyt Lakes by a first-grade teacher and a mechanical engineer, I graduated from high school in 1977, then traveled and attended various colleges, eventually getting a BS in Technical Illustration/Graphic Design from Bemidji State. I veered out of this area and can say, at age 56, I have lived a colorful life in Alaska, Minnesota and Wisconsin. In the mid-1980s, I lived in Ely, left and returned with my son in 2001.

So as I said, it is a new adventure for me to take on being a columnist! I won’t write about politics or economics...I’ll leave that to the absolute experts. My column will be about everyday experiences.

Since daring to venture out of my house in these subzero temps I have been having some interesting experiences and adventures. Winter is naturally the time when creatures slow down, take time to re-evaluate lifestyle, toss out some behaviors and even re-invent. I picked up the crochet hook again, have delved into favorite old cookbooks from years gone by such as “ The Enchanted Broccoli Forest and Recipes for a Small Planet.” Other than forgetting how easily a skein of yarn gets tangled, it’s been fun exploring new and rediscovering old hobbies.

The recent Ely Winter Festival provided lots of opportunities for doing new or fun things! I decided to enter the Ely ArtWalk for the first time, the over-all idea being to set in motion creating art work again. There were over 150 exhibitors this year, of all ages. It was a great turnout. I pulled together pieces of art from the late ‘80s and forward, including pen and ink, scratchboard, oil painting, charcoal, screenprinting, graphic design and a couple of dolls.

As a graphic artist, I’ve neglected creating other forms of art and working with other media aside from a computer. Good to go back, grab a paintbrush, pull a squeegee, blend soft shades of pastels—pull it from a place it has been stashed. Beats reality TV, eh?

If acting is a past hobby, you might consider doing community theater. “Gets us all off the couch,” we actors say at our first rehearsal. I’ll be joining the cast members in this year’s community spring musical, “Working” and have been given the role of the teacher, Rose Hoffman. I’ll be singing with hopefully some non-acrobatic choreography. “Use it or lose it!” my mother, Betty Ann Johnson, used to say. That’s true for so many things: muscles, memory, talents and leftovers.

What else is new in the winter lineup?

Well, now that you asked... I signed up for a day-long Meditation Retreat here in Ely last Saturday by a professor of Tibetan Buddhism. Practiced in cultures all over the world for thousands of years, meditation can be defined as a set of techniques that are intended to encourage a heightened state of awareness and focused attention. It’s used to increase self-awareness and manage things like stress, emotions, depression, pain, blood pressure, sleep and more. I’ve known it to be a good thing. I just hadn’t gotten to it yet.

So, I went to bed early on Friday evening for the 9 a.m. registration. I avoided beans and oats to help insure all systems would be kind to me, and others. The drive on the Kawishiwi Trail to the retreat was beautiful. The blue sky and fresh sparkly snow reaffirmed to me I was doing a “cool thing.” I arrived at the host’s home, a lovely handcrafted log work of art. As I walked up the snowy driveway toward the deck, colorful streamers attached to the roof’s edge fluttered in the breeze as if to wave and gather me in.

Inside the house were kind, smiling faces – several I already knew. After some introductions and chatting, we each found our sitting space in the large living room. Many sat on mats on the floor, some in chairs, and me on the overstuffed sofa near a sunny picture window, balancing my tea and notebook on my knee.

The teacher greeted us and then invited us, which was optional, to join in a Buddhist prayer and Sutra (defined broadly as a text in Hinduism or Buddhism). Wow, already a new deal for me. Being a product of “Western” I enjoyed hearing the “Eastern.”

The teaching began. At this point a couple other folks arrived late, there was some loud chatter, a slamming door, a toilet flushed, two more came in awhile after that, having gone down the wrong road and gotten their vehicle stuck in a snowdrift. A rounder quite elderly man with thick black glasses and salt and pepper hair was helped up to the front and eased into a comfy chair that had a reserved sign pinned to it. Now everyone was truly in place, no more distractions. We were off.

I was busy listening and learning, taking notes about the benefits of meditation combined with interesting Buddhist teaching (the two not needing to be practiced together). New perspectives, yes, and affirmation to a saying I often use, “It’s a great big world out there.” After some helpful tips, we entered into the first short meditation.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing and relaxing....breathing and relaxing. A bird smacked into the window behind me, I flinched and calmed. Breathing and relaxing. Moments later I noticed a repetitive sound moving into my calm. At first it sounded like a dull shovel scraping a sidewalk, like I hear when my neighbors decide to shovel at 6 a.m. on some mornings.

But nobody was shoveling out here in these woods. Everyone was so quiet, and there was this noise. What was it? “Name That Sound,” the radio show, crossed my mind. Then it occurred to me it might be someone snoring.

Really? No way. A quirky smile crossed my face as I thought about the possibility. Then a gentle bell rang ending this first meditation so I opened my eyes, tipped my head and scanned the folks sitting here and there around the room. Bingo, the source.

The elderly man in the chair up front still had his focus on the ceiling. He was asleep, snoring as his head gently lifted to-and-fro. The nature of this meditation group filled with non-beginners and Buddhist practitioners, was to be calm, patient and compassionate. So no one said anything or did anything.

BREAK TIME. A lovely tea and coffee social with all kinds of goodies, fruit, nuts, donuts, cookies awaited us in the kitchen. I spoke to a friend and her husband who were aware of the snoring and also found it to be a distraction.

I figured some Girl Scout cookies and coffee might end the man’s struggle, but I think he slept through it. After the break, we all sat back down and the teacher began some great exchange with the audience. There was laughing, questions, answers and the man in the chair began to snore again louder and louder. I wondered how “hydraulic” would it get? 

I started visualizing a Saturday Night Live skit from bygone days with Dan Akroyd as the man in the chair, Gilda Radner with her big, fuzzy hair seated on a floor mat, putting in oversized earplugs.

I thought about pulling out my note-writing and paper-folding skills from junior high where you fold the note into a nice little palm- size square and pass it to someone, maybe with something written to the effect of “Sir, I regret you are tired but there is a bed in the OTHER room.”

I was missing the point of the retreat.

The teacher looked at the snoring man from time to time and continued to teach. Then, stopped and asked him directly if he were sleeping. He got no answer. (I later learned he couldn’t hear.) I told myself to think of the noise as a furnace running.

This didn’t work for me. I dug for understanding, compassion and patience. My shovel came up empty. Finally, rather than stand up among these practiced, patient people and blurt out “Hey, there’s a bed in the other room and I can’t focus through your snoring,” I decided to remove myself from the situation and quietly leave. As an old friend told me once, “Young lady, sometimes ya just gotta walk!”

So, I missed most of the retreat, including the homemade rolls and lunch that looked delicious. Instead, I cleaned the refrigerator at home, vacuumed, had a boring lunch and decided to start writing this column, knowing that on Feb. 21, 2015...I flunked Meditation 101.

Oh well. Being able to switch and reprogram is a good thing, too. I’ll continue looking around for new and interesting people, places and things. They are here in Ely and everywhere. After all, “it’s a great big world out there!”