I find that during periods of major change in my life, the notion of a daily meditation practice is met with a mental aversion so strong that even looking at my meditation cushion ready and waiting for me in the corner makes me groan. This weekend I had this conversation with my meditation cushion a couple of times:<\/p>\n
Cushion: Hey there, loser.
Emily: Ugh. What do you want?
Cushion: C’mere. Time to sit.
Emily: Not now. Later.
Cushion: Now. What are you doing that’s so important?
Emily: Um, a million things, obviously.
Cushion: Liar. You’re not busy.
Emily: Sure I am.
Cushion: Yeah, okay, whatever.
Emily: You know what, Zafu? You’re a jerk.
Cushion: You know what’s worse? You’re afraid.<\/i><\/p>\n
The Cushion has a point there. If I had time to make up conversations with my zafu in my head, I’m probably not that busy.<\/p>\n
\nRight now I’m having trouble due to a lack of structure to my days. It’s an in between period – I had my last day of work on Friday and am now waiting for my grad classes to start in September along with a new part time job. The past year, in contrast, has been very highly structured: wake up at six, off to work by 7:15, very structured work day from 8 to 4:30 or later, home by six, etc. I still have a lot to do, but the timing is so different. I can actually choose when to wake up, when to go to sleep, when to do my errands. Yes, yes, I know I “should” feel lucky – all last year I would have killed for a schedule this flexible. But to be perfectly honest, it’s making me feel extremely anxious. Like I must be forgetting something, or I’m doing something wrong, or I don’t deserve this period of rest. I know that none of these statements are true, but I’m aware that they pop up.<\/p>\n
So meditation would be a great way for me to settle with my mental wanderings and feelings of uneasiness, right? Theoretically, yes, but obviously not, if even a glance at that purple pillow in the corner makes me feel resentful. <\/p>\n
Keeping myself busy has always been a way for me to cope with difficult things going on. When my mom had cancer, I threw myself into my schoolwork. When my parents got divorced, I stayed up late every night working on my writing. I did things to make things better. Regardless of whether or not these activities were constructive, healthy outlets for my stress, they still functioned as an escape.<\/p>\n
The idea of sitting down with myself right now is really scary. If I let myself be still I’m going to have to actually deal with all the things that have been bothering me: my breakup, missing my students, my mom’s hardships, my anxieties about grad school and change. I’d love for the next three weeks to just fly by, but I know they are going to go slowly solely due to the fact that I want to fast forward through the difficult parts. But I can’t fast forward. I’d like to try to meditate on this: <\/p>\n
These feelings are just feelings.
These feelings are temporary.
These feelings don’t hurt me.
I needn’t be afraid. <\/i><\/p>\n
I’m committing to hitting the cushion consistently, every day, for at least ten minutes, for the next three weeks. At the end of those three weeks, I will renew my commitment to myself. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I find that during periods of major change in my life, the notion of a daily meditation practice is met with a mental aversion so strong that even looking at my meditation cushion ready and waiting for me in the corner makes me groan. This weekend I had this conversation with my meditation cushion a…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":189,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-745","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-everybody-hurts","category-right-lifestyle"],"yoast_head":"\n