Path to an AssKicking

Ahh, lovely photo.


Calm. Peace. Tranquility. A sacred path to enlightenment.


Like being held gently to the very bosom of God.


Actually, this is me experiencing thirty minutes of meditation. YES, THIS IS ME EXPERIENCING THIRTY BLEEPIN' MINUTES OF MEDITATION.

I've done ten minutes of mediation, and heck, was feeling pretty good about it. You might say I was feeling a modicum of joy during these sessions. But now teacher has us kicking it up a notch. Actually, a notch times three. Thirty minutes of being with myself. No internet, no book, no TV, no glass of something bracing, no nail-biting, no hair-twisting, no lip-chewing, no pills, no photo-taking, no weed-pulling, no bathroom-going, no pacing, no talking, no blogging, no avoiding, no avoiding, no avoiding ME.

Do you know how much time I spend trying to get away from myself? After sitting for 30 minutes (I felt so physically and emotionally spent after twenty minutes I had to lie down to finish) I am realizing why I fidget and fantasize and worry and think and do stuff and all that. I'm trying to get away from my head. I'm a danger zone. My mind is always moving and thinking and yanking me around, and it's bloody scary. When I sit in quiet for thirty minutes just to be with it, it yells. Absolutely yells at me. It wonders why I didn't start some things or finish others. It hopes I don't fail this and reminds me to not forget a promise. It wonders why I ate the provolone last night during an insomniac bout with Graham Norton and Monty Python. It's wondering if I'm having some symptoms of perimenopause or if I'm simply experiencing the early stages of disease. Disease. Dis-Ease. Good Lord, Brain. You are freaking scary. No wonder I try to avoid you at all cost.

My instructor's voice on the CD helpfully reminds me during this HELL that the untrained mind is like a puppy. It wanders, it piddles on the floor. It barks. Chews shoes. The job of the person in meditation is to gently, with love and respect, redirect it. To help it focus on the now, on the breathing, on the moment at hand. I'll need to do this again and again and again to help train my puppy brain to piddle in the yard instead of on the carpet. This puppy will always be piddling, of course. But it's got to piddle in a more thoughtful place.

I think I'll run a mile. Then maybe I'll go to poke my eyes out with a hot skewer. It might be a little easier than meditating for thirty minutes.