The quiet bliss, the flash of total contentment, hoping it soaked in, knowing a part of it will always be there, will it last? And then…there it goes.
The next day, the ping-pong mind, fluttering around to someone I knew 25 years ago and then straight to anxiety about future lack of money. This anxious energy wants to stick around.
These things seem so solid, but like the flash of total contentment the day before, are completely transient. Why do the worries and anxieties and heartbreaks feel so much more powerful than the actual moments of peace?
There is an element of dedication to mindfulness practice. It’s not designed to be a one-year thing, a random act. It’s a showing up as often as I can over a lifetime so the quiet moments have caliber and start to layer. It’s a recognition that my mind may trick me into thinking life should be bigger, louder, brighter, when really, I have already arrived. Self-help media may tell me that a breakthrough is around every corner waiting to happen, and once it does it may be earth-shattering and profoundly life-altering. When really, the practice that actually effects lasting change is subtle, gentle, slow, sensitive, easily missed, and quiet.
The loud things that stick in my mind and then lodge in my body are one-time events, conversations gone awry or a string of encounters in a relationship. The balm for this strong energy is my daily ongoing dedication to meditation. Hundreds of sittings may soothe one loud thing. Thousands of sittings may help me transmute a toxic relationship. And such is the practice of meditation. Quiet dedication.