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A couple years ago, I was a part of a weekly meditation group that arguably made me feel more irritable than Zen. Though on some evenings I’d return home feeling a bit more peaceful than when I’d left, more often than not, I was the Queen of Grouse. Once home, I’d rattle off an endless stream of gripes about this man or that woman or some facet of the group that was driving me crazy. And even when I didn’t go public with my complaints, they were still there, swirling around in my mind.

For example, there was one man in the group who always fell asleep during the meditations. And snored. Like he was taking down an ancient oak. And I thought if he’s so damn tired, if he needs a nap so badly, why doesn’t he just stay home?

Then there was a woman who seemed holier than thou, speaking to a few old-timers whom she seemingly respected, but never to the new people who showed up.

And what, I wondered, was up with the woman who always went on and on about her “issues” when we were discussing the book that we were reading? And why wouldn’t anyone shut her down, for God’s sake?

Another thing that bugged me was the fact that there was no leader. Oh, there used to be a leader, I was told, but he was suddenly MIA, and I wondered where the heck he had gone and how could we reel him back.

To me, the group seemed lost at sea. Most of the time, when someone new showed up, no one even said hello let alone explained what we did, which on most days involved a 15-minute meditation, followed by a discussion of the book, topped off by another meditation that lasted 45 minutes.

I had an endless list of complaints about the group, but perhaps my biggest one centered around the fact that someone always had to time our meditations, and by that I don’t mean that we set a timer and ended the meditation when the timer sounded. Rather, the person who volunteered or was appointed as the timer, had to constantly look at his or her watch during the meditation to see if it was time to call it quits. I felt sorry for that unfortunate person who certainly couldn’t relax into the meditation. I thought, why in the world don’t we use an actual device to time our meditations rather than forcing someone to watch the time?

Needless to say, I avoided being the timer as much as possible, studying the intricate patterns in the carpeting when they were looking for “volunteers.” But apparently so did everyone else. 

Sometimes, when I dared to look up, I noticed that other people would just shake their heads and swallow hard when they were “invited” to be the timer, as though they were being offered a plate of chocolate covered lizards. Eventually, though, the guilt set in, and when I was asked to be the timer after many months, I agreed to do so, though I resented it beyond measure and felt every bit the martyr.

Periodically, my husband would ask me why I didn’t leave the group if I hated it so much. The funny thing was that I didn’t have an answer. I just couldn’t seem to stop.

Finally, when my father-in-law got sick and eventually passed away, I did quit, and at the time making that decision was quite a relief. I could meditate at home, in peace.

Then, a couple months ago, I was talking to a woman in another group I attend, focused on the teachings of the spiritual leader, Eckhart Tolle, and she mentioned that she was a member of the meditation group I used to attend. She said she really loved the group and the people in the group, and I thought “THAT meditation group? What could she possibly love about THAT?” 

If she hadn’t been such a grounded, likeable person I wouldn’t have given the group another thought. But I respected this person and enjoyed being in her presence. It was true that I didn’t know her too well, but what I knew, I liked. What she said got me thinking, and I thought well maybe the group has changed. Maybe the leader has returned. Maybe the woman with the holier than thou attitude has moved on.

So last month, I decided to give it a try, again.

When I walked into the room that evening. I didn’t know what to expect, so I expected nothing. Maybe the group WAS different now.  Or maybe it wasn’t. I’d have to wait and see.

A few people had already arrived, and were seated around the makeshift circle of easy chairs and loveseats. All of them said hello and introduced themselves. And I smiled.

Someone who had never attended the group walked in, and one of the group members explained how the group worked.  And I smiled.

When it was time for the first meditation, there was still the same “timing ritual” and the same jockeying to avoid being the timer. But I just took a deep breath and noticed my feelings of irritation surface.

During the short meditation, no one bothered me with their snoring, though a few stray people came in, which normally would have rankled me, because I believe people should show up on time or not show up at all. But I again took a deep breath and noticed my judgmental thoughts, which surfaced and passed, surfaced and passed like clouds moving through the sky.

At the end of the meditation, I opened my eyes and realized one of the late-comers was Bill, the man who used to be the official group leader.  I smiled, grateful for his presence.

During the “discussion” portion of the meeting, we all went around the circle and read aloud from the “assigned” book.  I thought it was nice how people didn’t seem to judge those of us who hadn’t read the book or who didn’t have a book, passing along their copy to us so we could participate.

Though Bill was no longer the official leader, he started out the conversation about the book after everyone in the group had a chance to read a paragraph or two.

The conversation was thought provoking and respectful, and no one dominated the discussion. Though one person seemed to go a bit overboard, talking about her problems, as they related to the theme in the book that week, I only felt a twinge or frustration, which passed.

When we prepared for the longer meditation, a man in the group piped up with an offer: he had an app on his iPhone that would allow him to time the meditation, so no one would have to watch the clock. Would we like him to try it out? He wasn’t a techie, he admitted, but he was willing to give it a whirl, if we would find it helpful.

I nearly leapt out of my seat. Oh please yes! Thank you! Thank you! It was like my prayer had been answered.

Since that evening, I have returned to the group as often as I can, in awe of how the group has seemingly changed. It all seems so new – the friendliness and openness – the loving spirit of the group.

Then I started thinking about the whole transformation. Maybe the group had changed. But maybe I had changed, as well.

Maybe over time, I have become a bit more friendly and compassionate. Maybe I am more willing to cut people a bit of slack when they needed to vent about their problems.

Maybe when I walked into that room with an open heart and with fewer expectations about what the group was supposed to look like and how people should behave, I was able to be more accepting, and more at peace.

Ellen Brown is a certified professional coach, based in Cleveland, OH, and a regular columnist on ShareWIK.com.  Visit her website at http://ellen-brown.com. 

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