The best time to meditate, the best place, the best length of practice is the one that you actually do. Showing up for practice today, however long or short, is enough. – Kate Johnson, “Calming the Not Now Mind”
I’m horrible at meditation, just terrible. Buddhism speaks of the ‘monkey mind’ that can’t settle down and pretty much does what it wants – a very apt description of what’s going on inside my head when I sit down to do it. Yet it is the first thing I do by choice after waking (nature’s call isn’t a choice) every single morning.
Why? Because it works.
I remember my first attempt at meditation several years ago. I got about ten pages into a book on meditation and started to give it a whirl for three minutes. It… was… excruciating. I just could not master keeping my mind fixed on the blank piece of paper that was suggested. My mind kept wandering off to wherever and I would get frustrated and give up before three minutes had elapsed. I became angry with myself because I felt like I failed.
The thing is I hadn’t. I had actually succeeded.
We can’t all be Thich Quang Duc (you may not know the name, but you would certainly recognize a picture of what he’s known for if you’ve ever seen it) and achieve a deep level of serenity that persists even when we’re literally on fire. We can, however, achieve the first aim of meditation and deal with the thoughts in our own mind when they appear. When they do appear, thank your mind for bringing it to your attention and turn your attention back to your breath. Doing this over and over again is why meditation is a practice.
I have anger issues. While I have a long fuse, a huge powder keg lies at the end of it. A 6’3”, 300 pound male with a booming voice and an explosive temper do not go well together. I can be down right scary when I lose control. The first time I saw the fire moving quickly down the fuse and stopped it before the barrel was one of the most impactful moments of my life. I arrived at that moment because of my meditation practice.
The simple stool in the picture is my place for meditation. Ms. Boss gave it to me as a ringing endorsement of my new found practice. I, unfortunately, abused it by using it in a manner that failed to give it the respect it deserved about a year ago and broke it. To recommit myself to the practice as part of Me Becoming Me, I asked one of my employees who does woodworking as a hobby to repair it for me. Since the day it returned, I have not missed a single day sitting on it in meditation. As the quote at the beginning states, I can and do meditate anywhere, but the stool reminds me how important meditation is not only for me, but my family as well.
I may wake before the enemy, but I do so to become a more mindful and gentler man.