I’m realizing how grateful I am for mindfulness. I can remember those times of stress when I simply could not meditate. I still labored under the notion that I had to have my mind still or it wasn’t “meditation.” But in addition, I would be so restless I couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes unless I was reading. But I never quite gave up (though I often felt like a failure). I kept trying to just pay attention, not just to my breath, but to whatever else I was doing, from mowing the lawn to riding the exercise bike. Gradually I extended this awareness to my mental and emotional states as well. (This was trickier, as I really had to let go of more judgment than I ever thought I had!)
Now I realize that meditation doesn’t require that calm, quiet mind I don’t always experience. It only requires what I’ve been slowly learning to do over the years – to pay attention. And when I am mindful of whatever is happening in my body and in my mind, with no judgment as to what that “should” be, there comes a more detached perspective. I begin to notice the ways I am creating the very feelings and bodily tensions that have me in their grasp. They don’t necessarily go away, but I start to relax. I recognize patterns. I even begin to see choices I hadn’t seen before. Whether grieving my mother's death, or the increasing pain in my joints, or just everyday frustrations, I can stay mindful, if not calm, and know that I am at least centered in the storm.
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