The day had been particularly trying and difficult. A phone conversation ran through my lunch, and I didn’t get outside for my usual walk. The sky had started overcast and grew progressively dimmer before spitting a bit in the early afternoon. When I finally got home, I had to put in another hour of work to deal with a deadline, and by the time I scarfed down a leftover burger for dinner, my nerves were frazzled and my constitution was shot.
Then the damn Presidential debate started and I could only sit through about half of it, shutting the shit off by 9:50. Half-traumatized and half-shell-shocked, I felt on the verge of maniacal laughter or a crying tantrum, and without thinking or putting any effort into it, I immediately headed into the living room to meditate. It was, I later realized, an instinct and habit, like reaching for a cocktail would have been a year ago, and it suddenly struck me how natural it all felt. I pulled up this album of meditation music to drown out the debate that continued to rage in the other room and settled into the lotus position.
Lighting the end of a stick of sacred wood, I watched the flame flicker ~ bright and soul-enriching ~ before blowing it out and letting the smoky incense trail around me. A gossamer protection and talisman, floating fortress of ethereal filament, it formed a certain energy field that set the scene for the deep and steady inhalations of breath that carried me through the next twenty five minutes.
I hadn’t intended to make my meditation this late in the evening, or even at all. On office days it’s difficult to find the time or slow down enough to have a meaningful session. I suppose it should be the opposite, but I’m not quite there yet. It was enough that in this moment of stress and duress, the first thing my mind went to, and the first solution that my body demanded, was meditation.
