We spent some of our instructional time with Jason practicing meditation. He guided us through a variety of ways to meditate always allowing us to find our own way and live our own experience. I quickly found that meditation and I would need to slowly get to know each other. Little did I know, our relationship would be like that one you have with your down-the-street neighbor: a few days a week we would see each other on the sidewalk and give that half-hearted wave and sideways smile while secretly wishing we would have waited until the sun went down to venture outside. It was uncomfortable.
Meditation and I kept working on our relationship a couple of days per week. I say "working on it" loosely. Often, I accidentally passed by my meditation pillow and cushion only to feel his guilt lasso me into sitting for a few moments. Oh, yes--I purchased a very fun matching pillow and cushion hoping that might make meditation easier/better! I plopped down with a sigh and closed my eyes. The first step for me was to center myself by focusing on my breathing-for about a second until my ears betrayed me. The soft sound of the washing machine or the television or the cars outside quickly became as loud as a rock concert. After approximately 3 minutes with my pillow and cushion, I gave up. This happened for a couple of months until I moved to Iowa and my beautiful instruments of meditation ended up in a corner of the downstairs living room. Truthfully, that room is not so much a living room as it is a dark, uninhabited space.
It's been a lonely year of struggles and challenges. I left my yoga practice in the spring and focused on running for the summer. Yoga and I have reconnected in a new, loving space, and the other day I stumbled upon myself meditating. My yoga class was in a peaceful Savasana. I was in full lotus, hands on knees, and eyes closed when meditation slid right past my eardrums and settled into an empty space in my mind. He started to spread into other spaces, crowding out the din of unhappiness from the day residing there. I soon found my closed eyes turning to look at my nose, drawing my inner eyes to look at my new resident in awe. It was so easy. I hadn't even tried to find him, and yet he was there-just at a time when I needed him most. I didn't know I needed him; I truly didn't know what I needed in order to find some peace. He knew. The universe knew. Meditation came to me as an answer to an unanswerable question. I felt blessed, but I also knew that Meditation likes to drop in and leave suddenly. The class concluded and life moved on, so did my memory of my time with Meditation.
Today, Frank (the dog) and I were in the back yard succumbing to his OCDness with the possibility of a squirrel in the large Oak tree. I sat in the red rocking chair watching him half-standing, half-sitting with his head tilted up, gazing into the leaves patiently. I closed my eyes to find Meditation waiting for me. He quickly yet gently lead my into a contented, silent space devoid of stress, pain, and hurt. I surrendered all thoughts of "should be's" (I should be doing this or that). I am unsure how long I spent with Meditation just hanging out like an old friend even though we have never been closer than that uncomfortable smile and wave of days gone by. I want to say we found each other, but it's more like he planned it this way. I desperately wanted Meditation as a friend a long time ago, because I thought I should. Meditation knew that there was a time and place for us to meet, and it had to be when I let that all go and could accept all his gifts with gratitude and genuineness.
Now I can't decide if I need to get my pillow and cushion out or just drop in with Mediation wherever and whenever......https://sites.google.com/site/mbyogafun/
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