So I sat and meditated—really meditated—this morning for the first time in a very long time. I’m way out of practice, and there was some serious monkey mind action going on, but I stuck it out for probably 15 minutes, and I give myself credit both for making the commitment to sit and for lasting even that long, given that my mind was a veritable pinball machine, with my thoughts pinging and dinging across my brain at lightning speed the entire time.
I know the benefits of meditation. When I was married, my husband and I attended two 10-day Vipassana meditation retreats in Massachusetts, and I meditated regularly off and on while we were married. I think my practice began to go by the wayside as the marriage began to fall apart (I know, I know…that was just when I could have used the calm and equanimity that meditation can bring), and though I’ve attempted to re-establish a regular meditation routine numerous times since then, for some reason, I just haven’t been able to get back there. I’ll meditate a day here and there, maybe even for two or three days in a row, but then I let life get in the way, and there it goes again.
But it just so happens I’m reading two books right now, both of which have passages about the authors’ time spent in an ashram and their experiences with the challenges of meditation. I guess the double hit of meditation talk is what finally got me to plunk my derriere down on the cushion this morning, and—in spite of the brevity and restlessness of my sitting this morning, and in spite of the fact that I got way too little sleep last night and was dragging physically today as a result—I did feel the difference. I felt generally more at ease, less overwhelmed by all the changes and adjustments that I’m dealing with as a result of the move.
Will I sit again tomorrow morning? I don’t know. All I can say for sure is that that’s my intention. One day at a time. Step by step. Breath by breath. Sit by sit.