I entered the room and my eyes darted to the corners. Each nook was painted a pristine white and sky blue, the blending of these two colors created a sense of serenity. The space in the room lacked chairs, white sheets provided padding on the ground. The minimalist presentation didn’t bother me. Initially, I didn’t want to sit down, but I knew I had to coax my limbs to relax so that I could land Indian style on the floor. I reminded myself that this was my choice, to come to a meditation center to learn how to quiet my mind. I’ve always had trouble sitting in one place, afraid to confront the silence in my soul.
For most of my life, the act of being busy has given me the momentum to breathe. The need to do more than one task at the same time always yells at me, whether it is talking on the phone and typing on the computer, reading a book while I move my feet on the elliptical machine, or helping my daughter with her homework while I compose my own to-do lists. I’m not certain this is an effective way to live, stillness becoming elusive; almost a riddle I am unequipped to solve.
I couldn’t worry about that now, my task this evening was to sit in silence for one hour. The meditation leader urged us to take one breath in and feel the air trickle into our airways, synchronizing the flow and exhaling. To pay attention completely to the breath, we were required to vacate our minds and pay exclusive attention to the air coming in and out of our noses. I felt some resistance in doing this, my mind made a list of all the things I needed to do once I left the meditation, laundry, making my daughter’s lunch, mopping floors, and I chuckled when I put meditation on the list. After twenty minutes of breathing and paying attention to the air entering in and out, I felt my mind quieting down. What was contained in my breath twenty minutes ago emptied out, like liquid that poured out of a glass.
The events of the last four years flashed, the first reach of air that my daughter grasped when she was born and the final chest movement my father exhibited on his last day of life. The moments cushioned in between those two events, passed by in my mind like a mosaic, from the first time my daughter took her first walk to the last time I watched my father take his last step. The common thread of breath weaved and intersected through them and me.
At the end of the meditation, the truth for me became a little clearer. I know that breath is what moves us individually and collectively, but for some reason those meditative moments pled with me to really feel breath. I give gratitude for my daughter’s first breath, but am reminded of the horror of what happened to my father at his last breath.
The breath fulfills and betrays us at various times in our life, but it is what provides us with our inner walls of refuge.
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Has meditation provided you with epiphanies? What has been the most surprising thing you have learned from meditation?
Image by Guy Tetreault
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
When I get the breathing right, the monkey mind quiets… your post is transformative, and my words are merely to say thank you (as breathing is hard to convey in a blog comment). From child’s pose to shivasana, Namaste
Bruce,
Thanks for your encouraging words. I am working on mastering the breathing. Your presence is appreciated.
Thank You.
Rudri
Meditation has been such a balm for my soul. The biggest lesson I’ve learned is that it’s okay to acknowledge our thoughts even when we are meant to be quieting our mind, to acknowledge them and let them pass by in forgiveness. That’s been hugely important for me.
It is truly incredible the clarity and self-awarenss I gain when sitting and breathing. I hope you stick with it.
xo
Christine, I love your words “balm for my soul.” I’m hoping I get to experience some of that balm. It’s a slow process getting there, but I’m confident that I need to practice meditation and make it part of my daily life. Thanks for stopping by.
I’ve always wanted to try meditation. I think prayer is in some way meditation, so perhaps I’ve tried it on some level. But when I pray it’s hard work to keep my mind from wandering to my to-do list, etc. My brain needs to be trained!
Missy: We all need to be trained to really contemplate the silence in our minds. It’s something I struggle with too. I hope you try meditation because I believe you will find some freedom in it. Thanks for stopping by.
I’ve never been able to meditate “successfully.” Perhaps, for me, writing is meditation. Or walking. Or dreaming.
Sit in silence “on demand?” I can’t do it. On some level, I always rebel.
I know this is a hard month for you. There are times for each of us, when we’ve suffered at the loss of a loved one, that we cannot let go of the echo of that loss on certain days, or certain times of the year. So I let it be, personally. I feel it. Because part of the sorrow is the profound love felt for the one who is gone. That breath of life. And those of us who give life are, I believe, fortunate to know its beginnings.
Beautiful post, beautiful reminder.
Thanks Alisa. Glad you stopped by!
This is beautiful Rudri; The juxtaposition at the end reminds me of the yin and yang nature of pretty much everything that surrounds us.
I am still trying to find a way to quiet my mind, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for meditation yet. It seems that when my eyes are closed in solitude is when I have the most to think about. I certainly need help in trying to relax.
Beautiful. I have been meditating for years and can’t imagine a day without it. One thing about meditation is it can be personalized in all kinds of ways which makes it such a comforting sanity-preserving tool.
The month of March is 1/3 over; hang in there…
I, too, have a difficult time quieting the mind and focusing on breath. The only time I can achieve this is when I am hiking in nature, otherwise I am unable to empty my mind…hoping to get better at it. Thank you for this lovely essay.
My mind is never measured and calm, even when my breathing is. Oh, how I wish I could make it be.
I really want to be better at meditating. Sadly, I take a few minutes to breath deep in the shower every morning and that’s it!
I would love to be able to sit in silence. I think about it a lot, but trying to do it sort of scares me. I’m not sure why … but I would like to know that refuge.