Tag: meditation

10 Steps to Leaving Your Joyless Job and Finding Your True Purpose
I used to pray for a small enough car accident in which no one got hurt, but my car would need work and I’d get out of the office for a day.

No Addiction Is Ever as It Seems

I’ve heard people say “the problem is never the problem.” No addiction is ever as it seems. In terms of my drug and alcohol addictions, the problem was an inability to cope with the realities of life: The smell of springtime, the first fireflies of summer, all of Earth’s elements struck me with the desire to drink and use. If avoiding “people, places, and things” was going to work for me, I’d have had to relocate to a new, less intense planet.

Instead of avoiding life, I had to learn new skills to deal with it. I had to have new thoughts. I had to create new neural pathways that made my hand reach for my phone instead of a bottle. I learned to share openly and honestly about the way I felt instead of shoving my feelings down. The root of my drug and alcohol addictions was a fear of being open and vulnerable. By facing that fear, my need to drink and use dissipated. The problem was never the substances themselves.

Through this process, I learned that I had other problems, with their own underlying problems! I learned that I am also a sex and love addict. Orgasms were never the problem. Sleeping with a married man is ethically unsound, but really wasn’t it more on him than on me? He’s the one who’s married! Morally wrong or not, the weight of the disgust I had for my actions brought me to my knees once again, wherein I learned the real problem: intimacy.

After working on my intimacy issues, I uncovered another problem:

I was staying in a job that I hated, and it was making me miserable both in and out of the workplace.

When Your Job Negatively Affects Your Health

Most of us have seen Office Space. The truth in life is that most people have to work, except for a few kids with trust funds who never seem all the better for it. But what happens when our work is affecting us negatively? How do we confront this beast while keeping a roof over our heads?

Working itself is obviously not the problem. Working provides us with money for our homes, our families, our needs and hopefully some wants. Having a strong work ethic is a good thing. The name of the game at this level of recovery is self-worth, and not even so much in terms of money. Money comes and money goes, but how you value yourself, your time, your health, your emotions, and your priorities should remain constant.

Pay close attention to the way you feel when you wake up in the morning on a workday. Are you looking forward to it? I used to pray for a small enough car accident in which no one got hurt, but my car would need work and I’d get out of the office for a day. It’s so obvious to me now that that was another subtle form of insanity. I thought everyone felt that way. I thought the daily grind was supposed to make you miserable, because if it wasn’t miserable, how would you be able to commiserate with people, and if you couldn’t commiserate with people, what would you even talk about?

I had no idea that personal development, self-care, growth, fulfillment, and joy could be a part of a career path, or anything my friends would want to talk about. I realize now that constant complaints about hating work are boring, and banter about projects that light us up are a welcomed breath of fresh air.

If you are stuck in the wrong job, your inner dialogue probably sounds something like the following:

“I need this job. I’m not really good at anything. I’ve been here a while. I’m not qualified to do anything. I hate my boss, but where else am I going to go? Ugh, today sucks. I’m so over today. I bleeping hate this place.”

How to Change Your Life

If you want to make a change, you can, but it will require work, introspection, courage, faith, and, initially, some pain. The following steps got me out of a job I hated and onto a career path meant for me:
1. Meditate every morning. Listen to your inner monologue from the witness seat. Hear the sounds around you and feel your full feelings as they bubble up in your body.
1. Set an intention to check back into this quiet part of you three times during the workday. Set alarms on your phone to do it. Ask yourself, “Do I feel healthy? Does my body need anything? Am I happy?”
1. Write a letter to your boss. Don’t give it to them, but write it. Write all the things you’ve never said but always wanted to, and read it every night for one week.
1. Decide how you want to feel. For example, I wanted to feel respected, confident, creatively free, relaxed, and motivated. Decide how you want to feel and assess if your needs are met in your current workplace. (For help figuring out how you want to feel, I recommend The Desire Map by Danielle LaPorte)
1. Journal. After you’ve gotten used to morning meditation, add journaling afterward as part of your morning ritual.
1. Set a date—one that intuitively speaks to you, and on that day, write down what you really want. No limits, no judgment, no fear. Maybe you want to be able to work from home and raise a family. Maybe you want to be able to travel the world while you work. Maybe you want better health benefits and more beneficial perks. Whatever it is, get it down on paper.
1. Let go. Affirm that the Universe has heard you, that it is an active forcefield of energy and working on your behalf. Create a ritual to do this. If you pray, say it in prayer. Write it down and burn it. Write it down and stick it under your pillow. Speak it out loud to an understanding friend. Whatever resonates with you, do it.
1. Follow the clues. Signs will appear. You will be inspired to take actions that may seem crazy, weird, or out of your natural rhythm— you should probably take them anyway. I know you’ve heard that the magic happens outside of your comfort zone, and now is the time to get uncomfortable. For support in taking scary leaps of faith, I recommend reading The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, by Mark Manson.
1. Listen to “9 to 5” by Dolly Parton. Sing it in your car at the top of your lungs. Actually, forget that—sing it at karaoke. This one’s not just for fun—singing and dancing release your heart vibes into the world and create feel-good chemicals in your brain. Plus, at karaoke, you’ll be uncomfortable, confirming your commitment to 8. Go. Sing.
1. Continue following the clues and report back. Keep us posted. This process may take days, weeks, months, or years, but set it in motion now and see where you’re at in one year, five years, and ten years. Remember—the best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is now.
View the original article at thefix.com
14 July 2019
Healing the Self: Yoga as Addiction Treatment

Yoga offers a healthy outlet to cope with daily stress and triggers, aids in preventing relapse, and reduces withdrawal symptoms and cravings.

In the classical definition of Yoga given by Patanjali in the Yoga Sutras, ahimsa (non-harming) has a place of relevance. It is the first of the five yamas. And its definition is clear: nonviolence. As the first yama, it also means that it comes before all others, perhaps the most important of them all, the guiding force and motivation to live a life full of serenity.

In its most literal sense, nonviolence may be interpreted as not hurting or killing others. And it is, indeed. The goal is to practice compassion toward all sentient beings, including self. Embodying ahimsa extends beyond this literal interpretation to include not just violent actions but also thoughts, feelings, and words. We must pay constant attention, be vigilant yet compassionate. What do we do with inclinations toward hostile behavior, harmful thought, and hurtful speech?

Practice Non-Violence to Self, First

While it might feel natural to practice non-violence towards the world around us, the best way to start a true non-violent lifestyle is to start with self. When we love self, we naturally aim to remove unnecessary suffering. Non-violence doesn’t just address action, but thought. First, we must learn to speak to self with compassion.

The act of self-love says that we’re on a mission for healing. It says that putting self first is not selfish, but rather necessary in order to achieve greatness and effect change. It says that loving others cannot happen without first loving self.

By being an example of love, by committing to a practice of non-violence towards self, we’re better equipped to teach others. As a result, we learn to love others more because we love ourselves. Or in some cases, through giving love to others, we can finally begin to give and accept love for ourselves.

Non-Violence in Consumption

Food, drink, and substance are not the only things we consume. We ingest through all orifices, including the eyes and ears. Non-violent food choices promote higher vibration through connecting with the world around us. Non-violent consumption of visual and auditory stimuli facilitate a more balanced life. In today’s world, non-violence is nearly impossible, so the best option is to reduce violence as much as possible. Yoga teaches non-violence as a road to success, abundance, and happiness. Of course, these terms are not used in the conventional sense. Success is encountering a new sense of self. Abundance is receiving and giving large amounts of love, support, and compassion. Happiness is found inside and not outside the body.

Non-Violence in Design

If you know your triggers, design a lifestyle that helps eliminate them. Places and people can trigger our need to return to old, negative, destructive patterns. But if we’re well-equipped with that knowledge, we can change the entire atmosphere. That means avoiding those aspects of life that don’t allow for growth. If passing a certain street corner gives you an urge, avoid it at all costs. If seeing a specific person reminds you of former ways that you’d rather forget, take action so that you do not see that person regularly. Yoga is a powerful reminder of how much we can push into growth edges by facing uncomfortable feelings and sitting with them, fully aware that they are temporary and will eventually fade away or transform. Set up your day with yoga to reinforce positive habits, but also to fortify your brain, body, soul connection. With high vibration surging through the body early in the day, we’ve already set ourselves up for success in healing. The brain, body, and soul will recognize this and start to align with similar vibrations, thereby pulling us into a vortex of healing and possibilities.

Benefits of Yoga on Addictive Behavior

According to eastern religions, addiction is not treated separately as it often is in western religions, it’s simply one of the various forms of suffering. We are all destined to suffer, however, we can reduce the amount we give and receive with the help of yoga. Yoga offers a healthy outlet to cope with daily stress and triggers, aids in preventing relapse, and reduces withdrawal symptoms and cravings. Yoga is not a religion, but it is spiritual in nature. It requires a small space, a mat, the body, and intention. With these tools, people gain skill sets to better approach and heal from the suffering of addiction.

Trains the Brain

Meditation and yoga make the best duo. Their objective is to train the brain for optimal living. One of the biggest causes of unhappiness in today’s world is stress. It creates the need to escape from reality and keeps us in a constant fight of flight mode. Once stress creeps in, and it seems to be doing this even in young children, the desire to escape increases. Yoga regulates and balances some of the stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. These chronically high levels of hormones are toxic to the body and central nervous system. And they’re not only hard on the system, they are hard on our emotional selves, pushing many people to seek substances to cope. With a yoga practice, stress hormones are reduced which reduces negative behaviors that can accompany it.

Builds Better Habits

Yoga promotes stillness, mindfulness, breathing, and awareness. These are the keys for living a balanced life. When we become more aware of what we’re feeling and why, suffering can shift from impossible to manageable. In yoga, we find moments of reflection so palpable. We shift to seeing a craving as a lack of something rather than a need to fill the hole. We find space to recognize the craving rather than react to it immediately. Yoga becomes the new method for attack as it is full of slow, sustainable, steps that promote new, healthy habits built for long term success.

Accepts Suffering and Change

We cannot escape suffering, but we can diminish it. Yoga has proven itself over the centuries to be both a teacher and a best friend for those struggling with addiction. Spending time on the mat brings a sense of acceptance for what is, what has been, and what will be. Yoga embraces an “as if” attitude rather than “what if.” Suffering and change are challenges that promise healing and growth if used the right way. Yoga offers a way that may not be perfect, but it is surely a way that’s helped many achieve an addiction-free life based on non-judgement and accepting self as is, full of potential to be better each and every time. It’s a series of steps on a path towards non-attachment, the ultimate goal in rejecting suffering.

Fosters Heightened Confidence

Yoga focuses energies inward and increases a sense of ownership over emotions and actions. There’s a new sense of control and in gaining that control back, confidence is boosted. Subsequent actions then take on a whole new meaning. This promotes self-reliance which is essentially empowerment. When power is regained in the body and mind space, the need to escape or harm is reduced. Yoga is a tool for empowerment that should be used not only to battle addiction, but to live a life full of healthy thoughts and actions.

View the original article at thefix.com

3 May 2019
What 8 Days of Silent Meditation in Sri Lanka Taught Me About Myself

I wanted to get something out of this week of mindfulness meditation. I wanted to live mindfully, feel spiritually connected, to be less of a disconnected, frenzied entrepreneur run by self-will and ego.

When we arrived at the meditation center in the middle of the Sri Lankan jungle during a downpour, we were greeted by leeches. The first victim, a tall German girl, started screaming and flailing when she noticed the mini monster stuck to her hand. Truth be told, I would have reacted the same way had I been the first victim, but she got it out of the way so I could steel myself.

“Oh, you will definitely get zem,” the white-haired German meditation instructor informed us in his grandfatherly accent. “You just pluck zem up and put zem back into zee nature.” He demonstrated this, gently removing the leech and lovingly transferring it to a leafy plant, more compassionate towards the creature and more amused by its human victim.

“What have I gotten myself into?” I wondered.

After filling out paperwork, we were shown to our rooms. They were closet-sized, blank, and crumbly, with two tiny, thinly mattressed beds and a couple nightstands. Of course, Leechy Screamer was my roommate. That would be okay, I thought, because this was a silent retreat and we wouldn’t have to talk to each other. Except, she didn’t seem to get that memo…

She was “Chatty Cathy” as we unpacked our things. I let it slide, responding in just one or two word answers, hoping she’d get the point about this being a SILENT meditation retreat after our meditation sessions began that evening. As an introvert, the lack of social pressure to talk to new people, even when sharing a closet-sized room with them, was refreshing. But it was weird not talking to my husband, who was staying in the men’s section on the other side of the retreat center. Throughout the week, we’d pass each other entering the Meditation Hall or the Dining Hall; he usually piously avoided eye contact, while I jumped to conclusions about how he was obviously “doing so much better than me” at this, as my brain likes to make even meditation retreats into a competition.

After the initial shock of the first day wore off, what did I realize on day two? Eight days is a long time. Eight days are a lot of days. Why did I think I would breeze through this eight-day-long experience like an ultra-zen fairy princess? By day two, I started questioning: “Is this really necessary for my life?” Obviously, I had deemed it so when I had signed up a couple months before. Just over two years sober and a newbie yoga teacher, I thought this intense meditation training seemed like the next right step. Disconnecting from technology and the demands of our constantly-connected world, diving deeper into my meditation practice to silence my chaotic thoughts, doing nothing but 100% spiritual personal development work for a week? This sounded thrilling and important and like something I was ready for, but that was before I actually tried to do it.

Struggling to Stay in the Moment

The sitting was the hardest part. Five hours a day of seated meditation (although broken into five separate chunks) was enough to drive my “go go go” ego into full-on rebellion mode. I’d be sitting on my meditation cushion, trying to do nothing but observe my breath as instructed, when I’d realize I’d been chasing the craziness of my random thoughts around my head as if I was watching a pinball machine for the last 15 minutes! Why, at 5 a.m. during morning meditation, does my brain need to start spontaneously planning how I’m going to hike the Pacific Crest Trail to celebrate my 40th birthday? I’m 31 so it’s not like it’s around the corner. My obsession with planning and controlling every detail of my life was ridiculous. Why was it so hard for me to stay in the moment? The harder I tried to silence my brain and meditate, the more I felt like my thoughts had their own individual thoughts and my brain was capable of splitting itself into infinitesimally small segments all at once, each thought wave following its own path of distraction.

And that is why I sorely needed this retreat. The disconnection from the outside world, lack of external stimuli, and plodding routine of each day forced me to turn inward and reckon with the darker parts of my ego. I’ve heard some say that addiction is the “disease of more,” and I realized that the objects of my addictive personality had switched from substances and codependency to adventure and overthinking. Just as I had always wanted more alcohol, now I wanted more stimulation, more work, more travel, and more excitement. I usually don’t want more of the things that really serve my growth and bring me balance. More meditation and quiet? No thank you.

Sitting on those cushions hour after hour, I realized just how much of my mental capacity I was spending “creating suffering” as our Buddhist instructor taught. By not accepting the true nature of reality, I create mental anguish for myself. I’m a specialist at avoiding the present moment, either living in past memories or projecting myself into the future — obsessing about the next meal, the next time I’d get to check my phone, my next trip home to see my family, etc. Even when I’m thinking about happy times, I’m removing myself from the present moment and denying myself the gift of seeing things for how they really are. Meditation trains us in non-attachment and non-identification with our thoughts. Being cloistered away from “the real world” on this retreat, with no phone or laptop or work or even anyone to talk to, struggling with the leeches jumping onto my feet and the rain and the other Sri Lankan insects constantly invading our space, and not being able to talk about it with anyone? My struggle with mindfulness emerged in all its large and ugly reality.

The retreat also helped me realize just how judgmental I am. There’s really nothing like being alone in silence with my own thoughts to expose me for the Judgey Mcjudgerson that I truly am. When faced with limited entertainment options? “OMG, why is she putting so much sugar in her tea?” I’d catch myself thinking as I noticed someone in the breakfast line. Or, “Really, he’s wearing the SAME SHIRT AGAIN????” I even wrote these judgements into my journal sometimes. On Day 3 I wrote, “My roommate just asked me for a pen. She is so unprepared. I am so judgmental!” Well, at least I caught myself. “Loving kindness!” I next wrote, as if writing it in bold with an exclamation point would make me practice the spiritual qualities our instructor had been teaching us about.

Finding Clarity and Learning to Detach

Throughout the week we were taught lessons about Buddhism and meditation twice a day. I started to see many similarities between the Buddhist “dharma” (teaching) and the 12 Steps of AA. Non-attachment, non-reactivity, and non-indulgence in every craving or story my brain starts to tell me are basic tenets of Buddhism. These are in essence the same lessons I had to learn in my initial trudge through the steps with my sponsor. But now, two years later, living in Sri Lanka, and many months removed from my last AA meeting, the universe was handing me the same lesson in a different context more relevant to my life now. I found this pretty cool, yet still pretty hard to grapple with.

One of my favorite parts of each day was our closing mantra, which echoed the “nightly review” concept of Step 10:

“I do admit all my failures on this day
And promise to learn from them
Should I have hurt somebody through thoughts, words, or actions
I ask for forgiveness.”

On the third full day, I started to get space, little glimpses of a clear mind in between thoughts, as if my brain had finally dropped down to a lower gear. The walking meditation was also becoming easier than the sitting meditation. Walking through the meditation garden, every plant and flower seemed more vibrant and enthralling each day; bird sounds seemed louder and more distinct, as if all my senses were heightened. Rather than getting bored with the walk, every pass through the same garden revealed more natural wonders in intricate detail. It was as if by finally shutting off all the external stimuli, I was waking up to the free beauty the universe surrounds us with every day.

The rigorous meditation schedule still stayed hard though. My husband and I started passing each other notes like middle school kids, “I’m struggling today, urgh!” he said, to which I responded “If you want to call it quits, I’m down. Just kidding!…maybe….?” Neither one of us wanted to crack first, so we stuck with it. Our next notes shared the nicknames we’d come up with for our fellow meditators — his descriptive names such as “Gentle Walker” and “Sings in Shower” and my 7 Dwarves variations such as Sneezy, Twitchy, Chatty, and so on. Like I said, I’m judgmental.

I realized that my obsessive tendency towards multi-tasking and overthinking probably began at a young age. In high school I would only half-listen in most classes while doing as much of my homework as possible during class time so I could have after-school hours free for a myriad of extra-curricular activities. This efficiency was praised and rewarded so I just continued. My nickname should be Queen of Doing Too Many Things at Once and Inefficient Future Over-Planning. Thus what should have been so easy, to follow a strict timetable from 4:45am-8:45pm, was challenging because the content of each activity — meditative mindfulness — was too simple. “You’ll never get this week of your life back,” I heard myself think multiple times. “STOP TRYING TO SPEED UP YOUR LIFE!” I’d argue back at myself, every time I caught my ego wishfully counting the days left on the retreat.

Acceptance

Eventually, faced with no other option, I started to accept the fact that maybe I couldn’t kill my cravings and silence my thoughts in only eight days. But, perhaps everything I was craving would still be there when I got back from my week in the jungle: work, people, the busy world. I suspected all of it would be waiting for me, largely unchanged. My To Do list would still be never-ending and my goals still large and vast. I wanted to be a person who could do this week of silent meditation. I wanted to get something out of it. I wanted to live mindfully, feel spiritually connected, to be less of a disconnected, frenzied entrepreneur run by self-will and ego. And yes, by the end of the week I did realize that all of those “wants” were indicative of the problem itself: my desire-filled ego. But at least now the things I wanted were good things?

The end of the retreat came, and I was right, the “real world” was more or less the same when I got back to it. My roommate and I finally got to have a real conversation (about how much of a struggle the week was for both of us, of course) and became good friends. Although I don’t think I made a miraculous transformation on this retreat, I made progress. By the end of the week, in a squirmy, uncomfortable way, I started to accept a little more easily the cyclical nature of life. I had to allow the rain and the leeches to lead to the sunshine and birdcalls. I had to be a drunk for years in order to be sober. I had to take this week of quiet introspection in order to be ready for the thrills and opportunities I know will come to me when the time is right. What is the point of rushing it all? Especially if, as Buddhism teaches, all is one. As our nightly mantra ended each evening: “We are all flowers in the same soil in the same garden.” Now take a deep breath and love the cycle.

View the original article at thefix.com

4 January 2019
Meditating on Meth

Trying to sit with myself, high or not, was unbearable. The feelings that came up were the reason I used. For years I had been running from myself.

The last time I had meditated was that week I was on crystal meth. Not because I was seeking any form of enlightenment, but rather for the college units.

‘The Art of Zen Meditation’ – a five day silent meditation retreat.

Compared to the statistic classes I had been taking, it seemed like an easy alternative. I was deep into my crystal meth addiction at that time; I’d been using every day for the past six years—minus the times my dealer was in jail.

My plan at the retreat was to “cut back,” maybe not even use at all. But I simply had to bring a little. I arrived with a stash of crystals in the sole of my running shoe. Within an hour of arriving at Mount Baldy Zen Center I had broken three of the four Golden Rules:

No Sex.

No Eye Contact.

No Drugs.

No Killing Spiders.

1. My boyfriend had driven me to the retreat and before he left we had sex. 2. I had sought eye contact with a monk and 3. I had stepped on a spider. But I hadn’t done drugs and by the end of the first day I still hadn’t done drugs. I actually gave myself credit for this even though I had snorted three fat lines before leaving the house and hadn’t arrived at the retreat until six.

At 4am the next morning a bald monk in an orange robe struck the gong outside my cabin window. I wrapped a wool blanket around my shoulders and walked up the trail to the zendo where I joined 12 students for the first meditation of the day.

I sat cross-legged in lotus position next to a woman who was wearing a purple shawl, amber rings, and mala beads. As cymbals came together we were instructed to close our eyes, breathe in on the count of three, out on four. I smelled patchouli, my nose itched, my eyes fluttered. Inhale, exhale, that’s all you have to do, I told myself. I sneezed, my head itched, I felt hiccups coming on. I forgot all about my breath.

My thoughts raced. I made shopping lists in my head: New underwear, pens, thank you cards, clean the fridge, go to the DMV, call Sarah back. She’s irritating though, why should I even call her back? I’m not going to. Definitely not. No, I better call her.

How much longer is this meditation going to last, has it even been 15 minutes? My fingers began twitching, I needed water, my mouth was dry. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the next hour let alone five days of this. I kept opening my eyes, sneaking a peak at everyone else sitting there looking so peaceful and serene. Were they? Was I the only one who couldn’t bear sitting a moment longer? I wanted to be one of them. Anybody but myself. All that sitting there gave me too much thinking time. I was used to distraction; distracting myself as far away from me as I could.

After an unbearable amount of time, the cymbals came together again: breakfast time. Instead of following everyone to the main hall for granola and chai, I went straight to my cabin and to the sole of my running shoe. Kneeling down on the floor, I crushed the lines on top of a book, Be Here Now, and stuck the tip of a McDonald’s straw up my nose and snorted. An immediate sense of relief came over me as the familiar burn dripped down my throat. I looked up. A Buddha with pink petals by his feet stared back at me. I turned the picture to face the wall and snorted another line.

I spent the next four and a half days sitting crossed legged in the mountains in between walking meditations along wooded paths, eating tofu and rice, and doing crystal meth.

Trying to sit with myself, high or not, was unbearable. The feelings that came up were the reason I used. For years I had been running from myself. To sit quietly and breathe, to feel a sense of grounding in my body was foreign to me. Yet it was something I always wanted. To be able to “sit” with myself. But how could I do that in the midst of my addiction?

I had always had negative feelings about meditation. I was exposed to it early. When I was a little girl, my dad had a meditation group at our house. He meditated, and stood on his head everyday. We went to ashrams, communes, meditation centers. When I was six I was given a pillow with an orange OM symbol on it.

“Your meditating pillow,” my dad said.

Every Sunday, I was to bring my pillow into my dad’s studio and sit with the adults to breathe for an hour. I wanted to throw that pillow out the window and play hopscotch with the other kids.

It wasn’t until I was five years sober that something shifted. And it wasn’t through someone telling me what to do, it was merely a kind of attraction. Attraction rather than promotion: one of my favorite principles in the program.

When I turned five years sober, my best friend was visiting me from Canada. She was sober, too, and every year she came to give me a cake. This time, she had a ritual. Every morning she would sit in lotus position on my wood floor and meditate for 20 minutes. After, we would drink coffee together in my backyard under a canopy of trees. I had known her for 30 years and even though it was subtle, I sensed something had shifted within her. She seemed to be more serene, content within herself. That didn’t mean on any given day there wasn’t some obstacle or, as my sponsor would say, “spiritual opportunity,” but she handled whatever was presented with more ease, an effortless sort of grace.

I wanted what she had. I downloaded a meditation app and started with three minutes. I fought it at first: my thoughts went from, I’ve got to clean the bathroom sink, reply to Laura’s work email, what a jerk she is to questioning whether I should have Caesar or Chinese chicken salad for lunch.

After a few weeks of a daily practice I started to notice a subtle change as I went through the day. I was more connected to my breath, more in my body. It was a new sensation; I had never felt this way before. After years of being completely out of body with no sense of grounding, I began to appreciate this new awareness. When I would get agitated or emotionally distressed, I’d put one hand on my heart and one on my belly and concentrate on my breath: inhale, exhale. That’s all I had to do, breathe. It was and is like coming home; coming home to my center.

I’d like to say I’m at the point where after three years of maintaining a daily practice I am now doing 20 minutes. Once in a while yes, sometimes I even go to a 30-minute meditation meeting. But for someone like me, who for so many years did anything to avoid sitting still and in my body, maintaining a practice of a minimum of five minutes a day has been life altering.

Next week I am going to a meditation meeting with my dad. As for going back to Mount Baldy, that’s a stretch.

View the original article at thefix.com

25 July 2018