A few days ago I had a difficult meditation. It wasn’t anything traumatic or tough in an emotional sense – I was just finding it difficult to deepen my breath and focus my head. Random thoughts skittered and scattered across my mind, and try as I might to banish them, it wasn’t possible for at least ten minutes. I was trying to fight them – something you don’t typically do in a meditation. It’s often best to acknowledge those thoughts as they enter your mind, then let them pass by in their own time, which acknowledgment usually hastens.
For whatever reason, that wasn’t happening. I thought briefly of ending the meditation early, as it seemed pointless when the mind was racing, going against the very notion and reason for meditating, but I kept at it. I eased up on the deep breathing until it became comfortable again. I allowed the thoughts to present themselves, no matter how annoying or mundane or bizarre they were.
My breathing deepened. The crowded compilation of worries dispersed. The bright clarity of meditation revealed itself again, and as I lost myself in such beauty, the phone chimed the end of the 23-minute session.
Some meditations take longer than others to click. In the very beginning of my meditation journey, I didn’t find that sense of clarity and release that I can find more often now. My meditations were only five minutes back then – such was the length that I could stand to sit still. Once in a while, I’d lose myself and get a brief glimpse of the expansive peace and calm that seemed to be the goal, and these little peeks at something greater kept me going.
Every few days and weeks I’d increase my sitting time by a minute, and it became easier and more natural to sit in the lotus position, to not only seek but also to find that elusive sense of peace and calm. That doesn’t mean I can always locate it. Like the other day, sometimes it proves itself furtive and difficult. It brought me to the point where I entertained the thought of giving up, just for the day, just for that meditation, yet I kept going, pushing through those moments when it seemed futile. Little failures offer the opportunity for little improvements. And that’s how we get to where we want to be, or at the very least a little bit closer.
