My husband and I once went to a restaurant for takeout, where I noticed a man sitting in an awkward meditation pose while waiting for his food. At the time, the judgmental and close-minded person I was thought, “What a weirdo.” Fast forward a decade, and now I find myself envious that he could let it all go and welcome peace and relief in the middle of the noise and distractions.
Meditation didn’t come easily to me. In the beginning, the hamster on its wheel inside my head was clamoring so loud that I couldn’t find relief for more than a single breath. But practicing meditation means trying again. After eight years of trying, I am able to find relief for consecutive breaths. And I find that relief to be more effective than that which I felt while taking a swig of my Vella boxed Chardonnay, because it’s not stealing from my future self. Instead, it’s giving to her.
For me, meditation is about choosing to let go, being willing to receive care from something outside of myself, and learning how to sit quietly with my own thoughts. It’s in that stillness that I discover more about who I am, nurture my relationship with the higher power of my understanding, and better understand my purpose.
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