Meditation in Ordinary Moments Earlier this week, my co-worker Lilly asked me how often I meditate. Given that I work at Lion’s Roar, this isn’t an entirely unusual question, but even so, my reply didn’t come quickly. I think I initially said something like, “Hmmm, maybe three or four times a week, depending on what’s going on in my life… but sometimes less.”
As soon as the answer came out of my mouth, I noticed a bit of self-judgment. Shouldn’t I be meditating, like, every day? Isn’t part of being on this path dedicating myself to the benefits of practice?
Then the second part of my answer surfaced: “Well, on days I don't sit to do formal practice, meditation still shows up for me. There are times when I rely on “practice” beyond traditional meditation, but more in my approach to what's unfolding in the moment.”
I’ve come to appreciate that meditation isn’t limited to the times I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom staring at the wall, or settled on my living room sofa early in the morning with the cat in my lap, noticing the natural rise and fall of my breath. My practice also lives in and through me in very ordinary, yet helpful ways.
In a meeting, when I notice my tendency to jump in with an answer to a colleague’s comment, sometimes — not all the time — I notice. I pause, inhale slowly, and with a small internal smile, I redirect my attention toward curiosity. Maybe just this one time I can work with openness and curiosity, instead of having all the answers.
Leaving work, tired, and wishing the long line of traffic on the main artery toward my neighbourhood was moving quicker, I can decide to redirect my attention, roll my window down as I sit in traffic, and feel the air and breeze on my face.
Recently, my family and I journeyed with my father through his final days. Time stretched on without definition; the division between day and night blurred. In those moments, my typical ways of relating to time dissolved. The emphasis slowly shifted to attending to small things that mattered to Dad: a cool cloth on his head, sharing a brief memory with my siblings, closing my eyes and sinking into the large chair beside his bed.
So, all to say, yes, for me meditation is the practice of learning to hang out with myself. It’s the working with what is arising; it’s the bringing of form to the practice of being present. It has helped me learn to be more porous, to let big feelings, difficult emotions, flow in and around and through me. It can be practiced at any moment.
Our tendency is to push away, distract ourselves, and avoid much of what unfolds in our day-to-day lives. We want what feels natural and comfortable. When we exert and learn to work with the practice of simply “being with,” it can help us bring awareness and the gift of being present into everyday, ordinary moments. Meditation has helped me show up for the day-to-day times when what I’m being asked to do is to be present. It’s helped me learn to trust that just being witness to what is unfolding is, in and unto itself, a practice.
In that way, meditation shows up in my life every day. It’s never perfect, always a work in progress, but I know I’m better for it. Below are three pieces that speak to bringing the mind of meditation and mindfulness into our daily lives. May they be of benefit.
—Beth Wallace, Associate Publisher, Finance & Operations, Lion’s Roar |