Sitting in my usual afternoon position – lotus-style, eyes-closed, hands surrounding a crystal of rose quartz – I felt the pull of the sunny day just outside the window. My thirty minutes of daily meditation was not quite up, but I’d already run through my usual focus items and was getting antsy to get outside to fill more lawn bags. Instantly, I realized the error, and immediately I went back to the deep breathing, trying to hold onto the blankness I’d almost, but not quite, achieved. It wasn’t a ruined session – I don’t think there is such a thing as a ruined meditation. Each one is perfectly imperfect and unique and beneficial in its own way.
Part of my meditative challenges over the past year has been in quelling the racing thoughts of the mind – which is the challenge for most people when they begin meditating. At half an hour, some days I find it goes by in a flash. On others, it feels drawn out, and I find myself squirming a bit toward the final minutes. The time limit/expanse itself seems antithetical to the whole idea of meditation, but it’s helpful for me. Within a boundary is the ability to embrace some sort of contained chaos. It allows me to not worry about time itself – the gentle electronic chimes will alert me to when the session is over – and it will not be rushed or hurried or slowed: time will advance as it will advance, and we have no control over that.
