MEDITATIONS IN AN EMERGENCY

How to breathe when the world feels like it’s going to 'eat you up'—Plus: Frank O'Hara, Patti Smith, and other treats from my treasure chest.

Hi, friends. It’s been a couple of weeks. I, too, needed a minute. But I’m back, and below are some words I managed to find — plus some treats! A meditation; a free replay of my 10/25 Write Now workshop; and an extended promotion (through November!) to work with me 1:1. May we never, ever forget who we are. And now more than ever (louder for the ones in the back!) may all beings be safe, happy, healthy, and FREE. Much love xx Alexa

Me, by Jonathan Waiter (a treasure of a human who reflected me back to myself).

One of my favorite poetry collections is Frank O’Hara’s Meditations in an Emergency (1957). O’Hara once said that, to write poetry—and indeed, to live—'you just go on your nerve.'

Years ago, when my son Lou was in the hospital being treated for cancer, I kept a copy of O’Hara’s book in my purse. I think I just liked the title. After all, I was in an emergency! My child was ill, my marriage was crumbling, and my music career — a dream I had painstakingly built for over a decade — was slipping through my fingers, too.

How to even breathe?

I spent a lot of time trying to catch my breath in a cafe by the hospital, where I had a massive crush on the barista. With my overpriced oat milk latte, I meditated on all of the above, on my emergency.

It felt like my poly-crises were going to eclipse my very being. I often thought of the monsters in Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are, when they sing, "We’ll eat you up!"

Around that time, my friend, Melanie offered to come to the hospital to sit with me. I didn’t have a meditation practice back then, but she did, and we’d meet in the hospital lobby just to sit. Eventually we found our way to the hospital’s meditation room.

I liked sitting with Melanie, but I did not like sitting alone.

One day, I worked up the courage to go in solo. Instead of “meditating,” whatever that was, I started daydreaming.

Photo by Ionela Mat on Unsplash

I imagined myself walking down a long, dark hallway, at the end of which was a door. I opened the door and found myself in a light-filled room, in the middle of which stood a treasure chest— you know, the kind one might find on a pirate ship or at the bottom of the sea.

I opened the box, and inside, I (re)discovered things from my life:

My Doc Martens from 8th grade. The Anna Sui dress with the fringe I wore to meet my first, much older boyfriend at CBGB’s. A poster from the Nico Icon movie. My mom’s wrap skirt from the first DKNY collection. My grandmother’s Chinese paintbrushes. My Built by Wendy guitar straps. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey. A watercolor that the writer Susan Minot gave me, which she painted on the set of the Liv Tyler film Stealing Beauty, for which she wrote the script. Black tights. A black beret. Red-orange lipstick. My great-grandmother’s prayer beads. A little patchouli candle I bought in a hippy store in Vermont when I was 14 and in love with a girl. A cracked cassette tape of the Patti Smith Group’s album Radio Ethiopia.

One by one, I took the items out, and one by one, I lovingly put them back in, feeling the warmth of the room, the heat of the sun, on my tired body, on my skin.

When I think of that time, I think of Patti’s song, “Pissing in a River,” namely the refrain: Come (back), come (take me back!), come back, come back…

I realize now that I was trying to come back to myself.

Years later, when I’d go on to actually study meditation, I’d learn that sitting can be many things. In fact, in the Vajrayana tradition, guided mediation and visualization make up a cornerstone of the practice.

Perhaps I’d tapped into some ancient wisdom? Or perhaps it’s natural for a lonely, scared human to reach for the things, the memories, that bring them pleasure and comfort?

Whatever the case.

I invite YOU to give ‘Treasure Chest’ a try.

As we meditate upon our emergencies, and the emergency that is the world at this moment, never forget that you can always access all that you are. And in doing so, you fuel up so you can best help others, too.

Luxuriate in your treasures.

Patti Smith

helps.

Find your Frank O’Hara nerve.

And remember: don’t let them “eat you up.”

xx Alexa

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A MEDITATION

Give ‘Treasure Chest’ a whirl! Feel free to share in the comments how it went for you, or what you found. If I get my act together, I’ll make a recording so you can follow along. Would you all like some guided meditations?

No matter what’s going on, you can always access your treasures.

Sending love,

xx Alexa

PS. from Rebecca Solnit:

“They want you to feel powerless and surrender and let them trample everything and you are not going to let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving.”