Muzak for Samurai

I've been staying up late like a slacker version of the poet William Stafford, who would get up well before dawn and go to his study to write, then merge into family and work life as the sun came up. It makes me wish I had insomnia. I love being up when the rest of the world is not. Unfortunately, I am a bum whom Jeff said would medal in sleeping if sleeping were an Olympic sport. Anyway, at about ten last night I went foraging on the internet for meditation music, with multiple windows open, search words: "guru," "swami," "sri," "mantra," "chakra," "shakuhachi [Japanese flute]," listening to samples on Amazon ("kundalini," "relaxation," "namaste,") and entering names I liked into Limewire ("raga," "tibetan," "monk,"), then downloading them to iTunes. And I burned incense. And I felt cheesy.

Then I stopped and pondered the paradox of not being one of those people who automatically lights candles and incense, and settles down with green tea, but feels jealous of those whom, if they were action figures, would come with a zabuton and sage bundle. I have a friend, Martine, an artist from Copenhagen, who when you walk into her home, you are seduced by a multi-sensory onslaught of spirit: smells, sounds, mood. Rosa, from Holland, has this talent, as well. (My sister, too, though she doesn't really nurture it as much.) For me, these instantly comforting places require too much work (I can't even find the matches most of the time) and involve some unease...what if I set this all up and I still feel crappy?

So I've been trying to swallow all of this and just get on with it, because when I listened to a guided meditation the other night, after staying up really late, I fell asleep within ten minutes, which is kind of a miracle. Usually, I get all revved up in whatever I'm doing, and then it takes hours for me to fall asleep. In fact, sometimes I stay up extra late because I know I'm just going to be bored in bed, not sleeping. Add having a restless toddler on either side of me....

I fell asleep after imagining myself walking down a path and discovering a boat on a river. I lay in the boat and let it drift...with my lump-like daughters next to me. Cut to ZZZZZZZZs.

Anyway, Jeff is mad because I'm using his running iPod, but cancer trumps entertainment in the New World Order. And I Must Relax. Mommy must relax. Mommy, who was compared to Little Nell the Tapdancing Maniac by her college roommate. Mommy, who is medicated for anxiety, but still needs to chillax, apparently. Can you see how hilarious this is?

But it is good to have a reason to actively pursue relaxation. So here is what I found, in case you get cancer and say, ok, stress really can kill you; now what?

If you're like me, you wince when you see the new age stuff. That is a problem, because some of the new age stuff is sincere and doesn't rely on a synthesized wall of sound that sounds like it came out of either Tron or Miami Vice, with some self-satisfied white guy thinking he can "conquer" stress for you. For me, a good rule of thumb is to go acoustic. Tibetan singing bowls are unbelievably relaxing. Tibetan singing bowls accompanied by Tibetan monks chanting takes it somewhere else, but it's still good. The Japanese flute, if you find the right artist, is sublime. The wrong artist, however, and it's muzak for samurai. The oud, which is a Middle Eastern lute, is a very contemplative, beautiful instrument. And then there's old Ravi Shankar, with or without chanting. I happily downloaded yards and yards of these instrumental pieces.

But I wanted to hear somebody telling me to relax. In English. Assertively. Get in the boat. Imagine yourself slowly being filled with a warm orange liquid. Once I get through that, then bring on the oud, the sitar, the shakuhachi. The funny thing is, like yoga teachers, the voice has to be convincing. This is a hard thing to accomplish, I know now, after downloading and deleting dozens of tracks. I'm still working on this...like some people work on needlepoint.

If anyone wants a CD of the fruits of my pursuits, email me. I plan to become an expert.

I moved our computers into the bedroom that will someday be our master bedroom (right now, we're sleeping in the girls' room, in a big giant bed), to get them out of the living room, which I've declared a No Technology Zone (except for the stereo), and which I'm imagining will be where I vegetate/meditate/try not to ruminate. Jeff is mildly pleased about the separation of church and state, so to speak. I think he likes that I'm forcing myself to turn more inward...probably because he's in there too.