I’m sure you were expecting a meditation video in this space. You’ll get one, but it will be later today. I didn’t meditate at all yesterday. I started with the intention, as always, but it seems as though life has decided to throw all of the variables to test my faith and patience into one lump sum of a three-week period and they’re all coming to an impasse tomorrow, so my mind is on red alert.
You’d think this would be the perfect time to meditate. As a meditation teacher, that’s what I would tell you–when life gets too crazy, take a breath and sit in practice. It isn’t that I haven’t tried, because I have. (Except yesterday, which we already discussed.) But it’s as though my physical body is revolting at the sitting and instead seems to be craving movement and integration.
This is unusual for me. I am not an extrovert, except in selective groups. I love being the introvert, the one in the background that you don’t even notice, the one who simply sits, observes, catalogues without judgement. I’m the one who goes out to bars with friends and is always the designated driver. I’m the reliable one, the loyal one, the one who comes on a moment’s notice when you need something.
It’s a safe and comfortable place, and I have come to love and cherish my quiet life. But lately I’m feeling incredible discomfort in not being a part of humanity. I have always imagined I’d grow old and live on a large plot of land near my parents, where I grew up, and be a happy old spinster drinking coffee watching sunrises and writing and walking the fields and trails. I still want to do everything starting with the coffee on, but I don’t feel that I want to do it in an isolated space. Nor do I want the bustling city–that’s too much yang, too much fire, too much busy-ness to enjoy life and sink it.
This is one of the reasons I’m not finding myself comfortable in seated meditation. I don’t know where I’m going and what I want anymore. I have never not known where I’m going and what I want. I have been on the wheel of public education since the age of five in some form or another, and that’s coming to a close (it’s not over yet, as I’ll share soon, but it is winding down). I’m facing some other life issues, too, which all require mental and physical engagement of some sort or another. As much as meditation has helped me heal from difficult past situations in the external world, I’m not finding it as easy to navigate when the difficulties are within me.
That seems so ridiculous to say. Don’t you think meditation would be the perfect place to find calm and peace when mental and emotional chaos becomes intense? I do, and it’s what I believe and teach. But there’s also a piece of meditation that invites compassion along with the discipline. A place to be soft and vulnerable and open and a part of the flow of chaos rather than trying to stop it.
There’s much to be learned in that space of allowing and softness, and that’s probably where I’m supposed to be now in my practice. I’m just not sure what that space looks like or feels like, because I am, of course, not comfortable there…but that’s just a part of the process of life, isn’t it?