An ode to my daily meditation
A version of this essay was originally published at The Mindful Word.
For many years, I would go to bed around the same time every night. In the micro-moments between leaving behind sleep and fully waking up, my overactive mind was already buzzing. I could sense its agitation.
I was thinking of all the things I had to do, all the tasks to check off the to-do list, all the events of yesterday. Although I had officially slept 8 or more hours, I felt anxious the moment I was back in the realm of consciousness. My mind rattled frantically like an unstoppable train-wreck. As my imagined worries mounted, my heart paced, and I had a baseline sense of dread and unrest as I dragged myself — to reach for my phone. I thought distraction would calm my mental chatter. So I looked at messages, emails, notifications, social media updates. Red threatening icons on a glaring screen.
Of course, all this was a recipe for decisive unease, worry, lack of attention and perhaps most importantly, absence. Absence from reality, from the present moment. Mindless-ness.
I was everywhere yet nowhere.
I was starting each day unconscious, unfocused, unsettled and overwhelmed.
Finally, I decided to change this pattern. I admit, there were several false-starts and even today I have relapses. But on good days, that helpless feeling of being in control of a “morning-tyrant-mind” has significantly abated. Now I know that there are things I can do to not succumb to my own ‘mental noise’. That background of constant thought flurries. I know that my mind cannot control me (not always) if I decide to control it first. How do I know this? Because I have experience the proof in my personal morning ritual.
Amongst all things that I try to inculcate in my morning practice, the one that works with maximum intensity and efficacy is meditation. Yes, good ol’ meditation. It has profoundly changed my life since I discovered it. And sure, it intimidated me too at the beginning.
Meditation needs a better PR manager, it has this reputation of being arduous, unachievable, new-age, or simply something that requires a lot of quiet space, time and strenuous mental effort.
It is, in many ways, none of those preconceived misconceptions.
I have meditated anywhere between 2–20 minutes, in quiet or noisy places, with or without a guide meditation (on an app/YouTube video), alone and with a friend, successfully or not-so-successfully. In all cases, I found that that the act — the very intention — of sitting to meditate and observing my breath and thoughts calmed my nerves and made me more serene and balanced in my perspective. It dispelled the anticipations, the apprehensions and self-inflicted anxiety of my mind.
You might say, I tried it but I cannot sit still and I continue to have interminable thoughts scuttling around. Well, personally, I don’t really care if I still have thoughts in my head (spoiler: they will always be there!). What matters most is the discipline of taking time for myself, to connect with who I am and what is true for myself. To know myself. For me, the benefits accrued from the practice of meditation far outweigh all other societal connotations and occasional failures.
Think of meditation as a jog, dance or a gym workout, but for the mind. I feel the same freshness of spirit after meditating 10 minutes as I do after a one hour gym workout — and I didn’t even move from my chair at home in the former case! Isn’t that powerful? I think it is.
And the best part of it all? The effects of meditation linger on as I go about during my day. Sure, unpredictable life events occur and lead to more worry, anger, fear or sorrow. But meditating preventatively helps (often, if not always) to maintain basal mindfulness and attention needed to overcome those difficult daily moments. It isn’t a magic trick, and it’s not always easy to meditate when I am already overwrought by the vagaries of life — but if and when I do manage to, it unfailingly makes me feel better.
For example, today I did a guided meditation by The Mindful Movement that inspired me to “Trust the Journey”. This is something I know I should do but rarely put into practice. This guided meditation presented the analogy of winter as part of a journey where, unseen to the eye, growth is still happening. I found this idea enlightening and liberating. Especially in relation to my current life situation.
I am learning to code and currently facing a brick-wall of frustrations and difficulties with my online coursework. Although I periodically remind myself to be kinder and more compassionate with myself, now I know I ought to trust : trust that I am on the right path for me, trust that even when I think I am not making progress (as fast as I’d like to) — I am growing. I often worry about finding a job after all these online courses. I panic because I have forgotten what it is to be a student again and learn a whole new skill-set (that too, in French). I worry that I might never succeed.
But now I know failure and challenges are part of the journey.
Any journey. Importantly, my journey.
And I trust that after winter, there will be a salubrious spring and a sun-kissed summer.
————————————————————————————————
This article is part of my new series exploring spiritual lessons and self-development attempts.
If you want to check out the meditation I did today, click here. To find out about my road to code, click here. The photos are from my instagram.
