We can get so caught up in the pursuit of something, that we are blinded by it when it’s right in front of us.
Let me explain. This weekend, while feeling super inspired and jazzed by all of the self-development I’ve been focusing on, I bought a bunch of new things to help me further along my path: a new planner, pens to journal with, a package of yoga classes, etc. I continued on at Pier 1, where I bought a cushion, string lights, a Buddha statue, and some seashells and marbles. I took these items and made myself a little meditation corner in my bedroom – a space that can just be mine, where I can retreat into myself and tap into the divine.
After setting everything up and feeling so stoked about this new addition to my space, I sat on my new meditation cushion and turned on a timer on my phone. I sat up tall, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply. My mind was jumping up and down – This is going to be so great! Look at you, all zen and shit! You go, girl! You’re doing such an awesome job! All of this, mind you, prior to my meditation practice even starting.
Within thirty seconds, my dog was scratching at the outside of my bedroom door. I sighed, got up from my seat of truth-seeking, and let her in, convinced she would curl up in a ball at the edge of my bed per usual. I returned to the floor, realigning my spine and my intention. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and felt a cold, slimy lick across my face. I should’ve known she wasn’t going to simply lay on the edge of my bed – not when I was down here on the floor up to something fun!
I could have walked her out of my room, closed the door, and gone back to my seat to reflect on all that I wanted to find from that moment. But instead, I sat on the floor with her in front of me, petting her and listening to the unspoken words between us… it was as if she was saying, “hey, you, I’m here… I love you… be present with me… please?” It was such a good reminder that meditation is a technique, one of many, that brings your awareness to the current moment. To the now. It’s a tool, as is yoga, or playing music, or running, or praying, or writing, or painting, or cooking, or doing anything that gets you into the flow… or hanging out with your dog.
It served as a good reminder to take myself a little more lightly. To remember that it’s not so much about finding something, but noticing what’s going on right in front of you. To be present. To remember the truth, and the gift, of now.