I have a post-it note with the words: The sacredness of experience in the midst of ordinary life, up beside my computer. It’s been there so long I can’t even remember what book that sentence came from. But it sure came to mind tonight.
After a very zoomy (and exciting, and inspiring!) day I could finally come home… and sit. Took my meditation outside: wrapped in a blanket, moon peeking through branches, the smell of blossoms still in the air, and just sat. And all the the thoughts, ideas, business of my day just fell away. Quiet.
Couldn’t have done that this morning. Too much going on, I was raring to go and my first attempt to sit felt like the bad kid in the naughty chair: I didn’t have to like it, but I would have to sit there ’til my time was up. Bleh, meditation isn’t naughty chair time out, it’s oh baby you so deserve this time out. I’m a grown up, I’ll sit when I want!
So I did. And I’m glad I did. Tonight I was ready for it, as soon as I sat, it all just fell away. Quiet. Deep. The sounds of all those things you think you can’t hear, just there, immersed in them, not bothered, just aware.
Daily sitting does build up some reserves in the serenity bank. A pool of peace that’s there for you when you sit still enough to tap into it. I noticed an interesting kind of Pavlovian response tonight, I assumed the position and my body just knew: Oh it’s time for this – and dropped right in.
Night sitting, so quiet, and yet so much in that stillness. Nothing more than a girl sitting on her patio, but a moment that felt special and sacred and brought me peace.
So, if you’re reading this and it’s dark outside: Go Outside. Wrap yourself in a blanket