I am by no means a meditation expert.  If I had to categorize myself on a spectrum of experience with meditation, I’d place myself at just a shade above “I’ve never done this before and I don’t know what the heck I’m doing.” And yet, here I am, writing about meditation, because I want to break down the notions that many of us have of it, and hopefully make it a bit more accessible to those who are flirting with the idea of starting, but are just too overwhelmed or intimidated to do so.  Or maybe this piece will just serve as a good read to those of you who have meditated before, and find the topic interesting. Either way,  here goes:

I started meditating well after I started practicing mindfulness.  It was like I just kept hearing this nagging message from the Universe— “You need to meditate.  Do it.  You need to meditate.” I met this message with a lot of resistance.  Something about the idea of sitting down and breathing while there were meals to prepare, dishes to wash, children to parent, piano to practice, patients to care for, just seemed ridiculous.  When or how was I ever going to be able to do that???  Please.  

Every time I had the fullest intention to sit down and meditate, the automatic thought in my head in response was, “Ugh.” A friend of mine suggested I commit to doing it immediately after each yoga session, since I’d already be on my mat and my body would have already released some of the physical energy that would likely keep me from settling in mentally.  That worked for a little while, but I always ended my session with a judgement of how it “wasn’t what it was supposed to be.” You know, judging that my mind wandered too much, or that I didn’t do it for long enough.  And then, the most ludicrously laughable part—I’d judge myself for judging it. Whatever good was being done by even attempting a meditation session would be lost because I would pass judgment and always, always, always deem it insufficient in some.  

But, I kept at it, however sporadically.  And one day, I just woke up and decided I was going to meditate before even getting out of bed.  I didn’t set a timer, or a goal of how long I “needed to” meditate.  I simply woke up early enough that I had a few minutes to pause and listen to my own breathing before allowing my feet hit the ground.  Because I didn’t start out with any expectations, I was never able to judge how the meditation went.  I was just satisfied that I did it.

After a few days of doing this, I decided to start setting an intention for the day at the end of my session.  One that is only meant for that day. Here are some examples of ones that I use:

 “Today, I want to stay mindful of my breath.”

“May I speak with only love and kindness today.”

“Today, I will not raise my voice.”

Then I realized that in order to set an intention, I had to really take stock and observe how I was feeling when I woke up, so that my intention could be realistic for the day.  If I wake up feeling depleted or heavy or in a low vibrational realm, my intention is not “May I speak with love and kindness.” Rather, it’s “May I find ways to replenish my soul.” Or “Today, I will not yell at the children.”  But if I wake up with the sun shining and feeling fine, the intention is different, like “May my smile make others smile today.”  Either way, though, the intention has one goal—to raise my inner vibrations from wherever I am to a higher level, even if it’s only a tiny tiny bit.

It’s only been a few months of me doing this consistently, and while I can’t say I have noticed a massive change in my life, I have noticed that I’m more in tune with everything.  I seem to have a bit more reserve from which I can serve others better. And I feel that I’m more open to hearing what other messages the Universe sends me.  Sometimes, it’s inspirations for Instagram posts.  Other times, it’s ideas for the website, or epiphanies as to what my kids were really needing from me the last time they challenged my patience. {I promise, I wasn’t always this ‘crunchy’ as they say.  But yoga and meditation will do that to you. 🙂 }

I still continue to do a morning meditation the way I described above.  But in addition, I have begun to find other times during the day, especially days where I am solo parenting, to stop and breathe.  Sometimes, it’s because the kids have pushed my buttons and I need to step away and breathe or I’ll wind up getting angry.  Other times, it’s just because I’m randomly inspired to do so.   A timer or goal for duration is never set.   Even if I take just three breaths, to me, it counts as a session of meditation.  

My meditation practice includes movement, too.  I will tune in to what my fingers feel like against my scalp while washing my hair and really feel the pressure.  I will make distinctions as to pressure felt in my scalp vs pressure felt in my fingers.  Which fingers feel more pressure?  Which fingers feel weaker?  Or how does the warm water feel when I step into the bath, as the level of the water climbs up my body as it fills the tub?  How soft does my daughter’s cheek feel against mine?  How lightly do her kisses feel against my cheek? What does my son’s small hand feel like in mine? Do I hear my husband’s heart gently beating when I walk up and bear hug him? The list goes on and on.  These aren’t so much meditation sessions as they are what I like to call Moments of Mindfulness. But they serve the same purpose—they help me check in with my body and recenter me if needed.

Again, it’s random, unplanned, and different each day.  It is not a specific room, at a specific time, in a specific mudra or asana with a specific essential oil being diffused.  It’s not rigid at all.  But I’ve found that since I’ve stopped defining what my meditation practice should look like, it’s gotten much more rewarding, and it makes me want to keep going.