Meditation (Photo credit: atsukosmith)
I’ve been running like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland lately. Between studying for my LCSW exam, parenting, working, and keeping up with my social life, I haven’t been allowing myself time to write. More importantly, I haven’t been allowing myself time to take care of myself.
When I don’t take care of me, I tend to get grumpy and melancholic, and I find myself talking to myself in a whiny voice a lot of the time. I get into this victim, “poor me” mindstate, and I forget about how incredibly blessed I am.
When I take just a little bit of time to take care of myself, everything shifts. When I stop and think about everything I have to be grateful for, my whole perspective changes, and suddenly life seems to be so worth it; I don’t want to miss even one moment feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve decided to challenge myself. For the next three months, I am going to spend a minimum of 15 minutes a day meditating and/or doing yoga. I can skip days, but I need to make the time up within a week. This means I need to do a minimum of one hour and forty-five minutes of meditation and/or yoga weekly.
Breaking this down even more, I know I will engage in these practices at least twice weekly, because I simply won’t do this much time in one day. And another great point, if I start my meditation and/or yoga practice on any given evening, it is very, very rare that I spend only 15 minutes. See, the hard part is starting. The challenge is getting myself away from the infinite amount of distractions and bringing myself here, to this present moment. Once I am here, I don’t want to leave.
Tonight, for example, I spent 45 minutes. I did some simple leg stretches, then started working on some swan stretches (not using proper yogic names, I know).
I noticed a weird stitch in my lower back, so I started working on some movement I learned years (& years) ago in a class with a yoga teacher who incorporated continuum movement. Basically, this means I got into hands and knees position, and wiggled and swayed my spine and hips whichever way felt right. This is so simple, yet so powerful, because it gets your body out of its stuck places, out of its habits, and opens it up in new, delicious ways.
Then I did some hip shoulder stretching, lifting my arm up (elbow next to head) and wedging my hand underneath whichever shoulder was stretching, and massaging myself this way, underneath the weight of my body. Complete bliss, and…ahhh.
I then did some sitting meditation (after a brief break from comforting my screaming 3-year-old, who woke up feeling too hot or too stuffy-nosed or whatever). I tried this Happiness Meditation, by Thich Nhat Hanh:
“Breathing in I calm my body.
Breathing out I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is a wonderful moment.”
I fucking love meditating. And when I don’t do it, I forget, and I think of it as work. But the really great thing is that the effort you put into and progress you make with meditation and yoga does not go away. When you come back, there you are, right where you left off. The wisdom you learn, you learn so deeply, and you naturally apply it to every aspect of your life.
Tonight with the meditation, I remembered something in a book I am reading about how one day for Brahma (the Hindu creator of the world) is 4 billion years for us humans. And I started to think of every second, and how teeny tiny that would be in this perspective. And then, I thought of some insects, who live to be just a few days old, and how maybe for them, in their experience, they have these incredibly long lives with a vast amount of experiences.
Gazing into the infinite also always brings up existential angst for me, but the smiling and the constant coming back to the present moment really helps with that. And the realizing that I need not fear loss and death, because, really I have nothing. I am a part of this cosmic dance, and I am in relation to other people, and I like to believe, or at least hope for, reincarnation, or something after death, in which I am still connected to my loved ones.
So, please, readers, help me on this journey. Hold me accountable to this practice. And join me, if you’d like. I would like, very much.