Sort of Om

July 14th, 2012


It took me many tries to quit smoking, and now years later, it’s taking me many attempts to feel like I’m finally starting to “get” meditation. Knock on wood. I doubt I’ll ever be able to go on weekend retreats where meditators sit for hours and practice. Right now, I count 15 minutes of sitting still and breathing a major victory. I high five myself at the end of every session and hope that maybe next time I’ll go a minute or two longer. Half the time I’m not even sure why I’m doing this, and all the time my mind is like a bad dog, constantly wandering off to sniff at a regret or a worry or a plan or a piece of gossip I heard. Still, I feel impelled to keep trying it, to say “heel” to my brain for at least 15 minutes a day. I turn on the phone app my yoga teacher recommended (, close my eyes and sit down to do … nothing. Again and again, I count my breaths; again and again my mind wanders. On the face of it, meditation sounds like a combination of boring and crazy, but I think there is something important going on. For now, I just sit and breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

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