Marking Time

I shot past my one-monthiversary of this blog without even realizing it.  When I started writing about a month ago, I found that I had time on my hands and no outlet for my constantly-working brain.  Combined with several unpublished books I've written and some big plans this year, it felt like the thing to do.

All of a sudden, I had two weeks worth of content, despite pretty much a zero readership.  Which is fine.  In life, things usually start slowly.

But what struck me upon realizing that I've been going at this blog for a month - about 28 days longer than any other blog I've started - was the realization that we do a lot of time marking.  Lizard Boy will be turning 40 next month, we're coming up on our 2-year anniversary, I've been doing the Orphaned Entertainment podcast with my good friend, Christopher, for over four years...

How are we supposed to balance this idea of marking time and setting goals with being present?

I find myself constantly making plans for the future.  In February I have to celebrate my husband's birthday, in May our anniversary, in June I have a convention to attend, in November I have an international race to run...planning for these things preoccupy so much of my time that I often escape to give other people advice, rather than think about my own plans.

The moment I stop to be present - to feel my heart beat; to let my arms, legs, neck and hands relax; to look out the window at what I can see right now - I feel myself grow calm and peaceful.  A two-minute meditation drops my heart rate significantly, and I find that I can breathe easily and focus more readily on this moment, without feeling pressured to plan for next week or month or year.

Even though I know I have training to plan, a film to watch, a birthday to plan for...all these things shrink back to perspective when I take a moment to breathe, to be present, and to take note of how my body feels.  That alone is worth making time to sit in silence and be in the moment, no matter how much time that moment may take.

Being Okay with Not Being Okay

Meditation is not about reaching into some cosmic plane to pull peace to yourself.  It is about observing, acknowledging, and accepting.  In a lot of ways, the process of grief is like meditation.

First, your instinct is to fight the situation - your brain wants to wander and distract you - then, you become frustrated with yourself for not being able to fall easily into meditation.  When you finally achieve the lightness of simply being in your body, breathing, and letting your thoughts go as they come to you, it is much like the final stage of grief: You are not changing the circumstances.  You are simply accepting things as they are.

You don't have to be a master of meditation to feel the benefits of it.  Accept where you are, let it go.  That is the way to improve your skill at meditation.  You cannot force yourself to be better at meditation: you succeed in meditation by letting go of the need to control.