Meditation is a period of continued introspective contemplation. It is doing nothing, on purpose. It reveals the innate peace and stillness at the heart of now. The same peace can also be found sailing, paddling or hiking, doing yoga. Afterwards, we are calm, refreshed, full of gratitude.
And it never lasts.
Here is how I do it -
Start quiet, sitting or lying is OK. Maybe put on some soft instumental music. Empty your mind. Close your eyes. Take a breath - inhale - exhale slow. Another. Make your mind still again. Thoughts float by. File them away. Let them go. Concentrate on your breathing. Be aware of your body - feet, legs, hips, back. Work your way up to your head - do it again.
Listen to the music, the surrounding noise. Find peace. Without words or thoughts locate yourself in this quiet moment. Feel the chair press against your rear. Relax. Let your mouth open easy. Imagine gratitude - joy - love. Stay there for as long as you like - the day will wait. Wriggle your fingers, move your toes, open your eyes. Push the world away. You're not ready for re-entry yet. Stand, stretch, look around at the miraculous world.
It's a beautiful day.
I try to have a session like this two or three times a week. Sometimes, when things in my life jumble I go for more. More is better.
It’s the same when I wander in nature.
I remember a day long ago on a sailboat far away. A hardworking Dad then, responsible for two little girls, alone on his boat. A perfect breeze, cool and playful. Ebb tide, but almost slack so minimal current. The sky blue and dotted with clouds. I tacked the boat, trimmed the jib, edged her down away from the wind a touch.....she heeled, water sloshed over the lee rail...we accelerated across the bay. I cried.
Years later, high in the New Mexico backcountry, perched on a white rock outcrop looking over the whole damned Gila Wilderness. Not a cloud above, calm and still. Echo dog sat behind me, guarded my back. The faintest scent of pine drifted in the warm air. Surrounded by miles of juniper and pinyon forest, all the way up to the Mogollon Mountains. Cliff Dweller Canyon over that-a-way, the middle fork below me. The Gila - a beautiful place on a beautiful day. How those that are gone now would have loved this. Cried again.
That time in Georgia. Kayaked up the Darien River to Rifle Cut and pushed against the current deep into the swamp. Flowers hung over the water, gators slipped into the stream, Osprey chittered and fluffed. Palmetto, tupelo, myrtle, and cypress elbowed their way to the sun. I back-paddled to hold my position in the slight current, absorbed flower magic. I floated further, around a couple of snags - and out into the broad Altamaha. The river is 1/4 mile wide here, wild, unconstrained - my tears fell in it, headed out to sea.
Meditation clears my mind and gives a quiet joy mixed with some sorrow. Each moment is sad and glorious at the same time. Sad because this too shall end. Glorious because every second of existence is just a damn miracle. The result is awe and wonder - therapy. The same is true when I'm in nature. Each instant is wonderful and terrible, full of joy and dread. Joy because, I mean - orcas. Dread because - shit, this all ends badly, doesn’t it? The magic lasts until I end the session, return from the hike, or step on the dock. Human buzz hates peace and quiet. Soon the chatter returns, crowds out the rest.
Meditate more, buzz less.