rumination(medi)tatio
A couple weeks ago, I started incorporating meditation into my days. At first the practice proved to be scattered, so I saved the deep breathing and stillness for the “harder” moments–as in work stress(like working ’til 10pm), chronic pain stress(the to-brew-or-not-to-brew migraine), and random stress(bad dreams, such as this morning).
My first realization: damn, I suck at meditating. I had in my head a model of perfect stillness, and stillness I am not. But ah, there comes the art of practicing something you have never been stellar at–mastering it, even in your own little manic way. I have been reading article after article about the impact of meditation and yoga on chronic pain, and on the most basic of levels it makes sense.
I practically ran to sitting still this morning–as stated earlier, a horrible dream had me awake just after eight in the morning. One thing that makes my minutes of meditation successful: a straight back. I am a lady with a spine that slightly curves, shoulders that swallow just a bit forward, so sitting absolutely upright is a nice healthy challenge for me. This simple thing, of how I sit, puts me where I need to be to take deep breathing seriously. I breathe a lot faster than I ever realized, and of course I did not realize this until I slowed down and listened to how my body greeted and expelled the air.
I start by taking the deepest breath that I can.I close my eyes, I stretch my arms above my head. Before I try to clear my mind I think absolute awareness–feel every ache and physical sigh of the body while maintaining the straightest posture I can muster. Sometimes it’s downright laughable–how hard this is for me to do successfully. Sometimes meditation lasts five minutes; sometimes I can sit still for twenty. It is a start, and that’s all I need.
It’s funny–the peace you make when you clear your mind completely. I love how private it is. I love that I can learn how to be as still as I need to be. Some moments require more motionless than others. I love how I’m still not very good at it–lines of poems sneaking in and cracking smiles at my impatience. It is a little bit of work, and I love a good work in progress.