Meditation

I have always found it extremely hard to meditate. I don't know why, except that my active brain simply kicks me out of that space almost immediately. And traditional prayer, outside the choral evensong setting, has never taken hold. Over the years, I managed to find alternative ways to enter an aware state. I spent many years living right next to big lakes (Superior and Champlain) and meditated by staring out at the horizon line (and for a time, that was the theme of my acrylic and oil paintings). Singing or listening to the music of my church music genre helped me connect with the divine, as did journaling. Pulling a daily oracle card has often helped bring my focus higher and given me a sense of loving guidance.

But there is no question that this extraordinary, outrageous era is going to call for a new kind of start to the day. These days, from the moment I stand up, I feel out of kilter. That breath of love, sometimes just a wisp, is hard to connect with at the best of times, but now "breath-taking" is happening literally. Of course, that is what non-love does so well, takes the oxygen out of the room, and out of our lives.

As I write this, I am having a realization. At least for a time, my morning routine will simply have to include five minutes of sitting at the edge of the bed, breathing, and paying attention to my breath. I'm not going to aim for enlightenment, or great epiphanies, or loving thoughts, or even the avoidance of thinking. I'm going to have to start from scratch, and just breathe and be thankful that this oxygen, in the midst of it all, is available to me.