~ When Meditation Is Like This ~

I was sitting with a friend. He turned the conversation to meditation and with a sigh of frustrated discouragement said “everyone says I should meditate, but I’m terrible at it.”  
 
He went on to describe the way his mind bounces around. The way his body won’t settle. The ideas and comparisons that trap him in “I can’t do this.”
 
In other words, he described what I often experience when I sit on a cushion and “try” to meditate.  He and I aren’t the only ones who experience this phenomenon or there would not be a gazillion how-to apps, books, classes, videos and etceteras on how to meditate.
 
With utter respect and awe for the art and traditions of sitting meditation, that’s often not a good starting point—or maybe never a point—for many of us.
 
When it comes to meditation—when it comes to anything—be gentle with yourself.
 
Let your meditation be an act of devotion and peace; not a war with your thoughts, but a falling in love with whatever is arriving.
 

Where does your heart lead you right now?

And how can you bring soft, exquisite attention and presence to that?
 
It’s as simple as feeling those raindrops tickle your skin.
 
Or bathing in a sound bath of bird song, or slipping into a tub of fragrant, warm water.

 
Take something repetitive and turn that into your practice, like knitting, where there’s just one stitch at a time, or falling into the rhythm of kneading bread dough.  
 
What is something you already love that can become your meditation teacher?

 
Invite your inner three-year old to come out and play—remember finger painting—wild, free, uninhibited, with that exquisite attention to what’s in front of you, when that moment becomes your entire world.

Maybe for you it’s free-flow writing; letting something unplanned and unorganized emerge when your pen comes to the page.
 

 
Find yourself in rhythm—the rhythm of swim stokes, bike pedals, or running strides—the beat of a drum or of your own precious heart.
 
Follow the coming and going of your breath. Maybe your attention rests on the sensation of air passing through your nose or the subtle movements in your chest, shoulders or belly.
 
Feel your feet meeting the earth, as if each step was a kiss from the earth to you. Or maybe those steps become the way you kiss the ground?
 
Dance the repetitive cadence of a waltz; the deep, primal, pulse of African dance; or the completely freeform organic way that only you can move.
 
Flow with the disciplined grace of a movement practice such as TaiJi.
 
Sit in your favorite spot with a cup of something yummy—coffee, tea or join me in a mug of cacao— and let all your senses savor that moment.
 
What might happen if you give up the notion of “meditation” all together and practiced weaving reverence, ritual and aware presence throughout your day?

 As Rumi says—