You should sit in meditation for twenty minutes every day.
Unless you are too busy. Then you should sit for an hour."
Old Zen Adage
My own personal lesson of the day. Stop.
Take time. To make time.
These past weeks have felt like a wonderful chaos around me.
I'm dancing between my projects and client work, as though I'm dancing
at four weddings and a funeral. All at the same time. In the same
moment. And these pasts days, I feel like I'm the queen of dancing two
steps behind, and out of tune.
But I hope, with a bit of grace.
Mind you, I'm in love with my work and I believe in my work, and hence I call it a wonderful chaos.
Wasn't it Nietzsche who once said, "You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star."
Thank you for that, Nietzsche. Thank you.
But this afternoon, I was driving home from a meeting and my mind was
inspired and thinking of all the things I needed to do when I got back
home. And all the things I wanted to do when I got back home. Home of
course, is also lovingly known as my "Head Quarters"... and my "Heart
Quarters".
And today was a beautiful day, an October beautiful
day... In the distance I could see the vineyards, alongside me the
harvest fields, and these glorious October colours....
And I
heard myself in a monologue of thinking... I wish I had time to just
stop and enjoy this all right now. Go for a walk, sit down and enjoy a
cup of coffee...
The mind immediately replied in another
monologue of thinking... Don't forget to make that phone call. You need
to finish the texts for the website. You still haven't replied to that
email. Schedule the appointment for next week....
And suddenly I heard something inside those thoughts say...
Stop. Right now. Inhale. Exhale.
Take time. To make time.
And then I knew what I had to do.
There is a little lake just outside this little town I call home.
A quaint little lake. With a walking path around it.
I remembered that one of the things on my infamous "to do" list that
had not yet been accomplished over the past weeks was "Go for a walk
around the lake. Collect hazelnuts."
In all the frenzy the past
few weeks, I had been postphoning little things like this. And in that
regard, I had been putting myself on hold.
Stop.
Take time. To make time.
And so, I went for my walk.
My mind was still inspired, but there was a calm in the inspiration.
And I sensed my longing for awareness. Not the awareness of my "to do"
list, and this phone call and that email, that appointment and this or
that project. But the awareness of what was before me and around me,
with each and every step. The awareness of the trees, the little pebbles
beneath my feet. The stillness of the water. A bird that flew by.
It was like I had a deja vu of being a child. A walk of just a few
steps could have taken me hours. The patience my mother must have had
with me. And simply because as a child, I had to stop and pick up and
touch each little flower along the way. I had to hold every little stone
in my hand as though it were the first stone I had ever seen. It must
have been something magical. And I looked at everything in wonder. Each
crack in the sidewalk. Each person that walked by.
And I am probably guessing in saying, you were just the same as a child.
Aware. Awake. Beautifully wide awake. And in wonder.
And yes, I came by the hazelnut tree. Stopped, and picked each nut up, one by one by one. As many as my pockets could hold.
When I got back to my car, there was a different woman standing there,
than the woman I was just an hour earlier. I caught myself smiling.
Stop.
Take time. To make time.
There's a little café at the lake. I had my notebook with me, the paper
and pen type of notebook, I had my cigarettes with me. But most
importantly, I had me, with me.
And I found myself thinking,
now is the perfect moment for a cup of coffee. Me. My notebook. That
little lake. Paper and pen. And a cup of coffee.
And I just sat there. I found myself writing down only two words. And those two words were, "Thank you".
I believe I was thanking myself. And maybe I was thanking God. And
possibly I was thanking Life. And I was just thanking the moment.
Calm. Quiet. Happy. Inspired.
Meditation doesn't always have to be "om".
And meditation doesn't always have to be sitting cross legged on the
floor, trying so hard to force yourself to meditate and not think about
the laundry, or why he said what he said when you wanted him to say
what... ommmm... but i think i'm hungry and when I'm finished with this,
the first thing I want to do is make myself something to eat and...
ommmm... am I the only person in the world that can't frigging just be
quiet and sit here and meditate? Sat nam. And namasté.
No.
Meditation is often just a walk in the woods. Or a walk around the lake.
And being aware. Of you and yourself. And where you are. And letting
the simple things in that moment be so beautifully real that you feel
the colour, and touch the air and smell the breeze kiss your skin.
No. Meditation is often just a cup of coffee. Sitting there. Gazing. And catching yourself with a gentle smile.
No. Meditation is letting things stop. Even if just for a moment.
Take time. To make time.
And as the Old Zen Adage goes...
"You should sit in meditation for twenty minutes every day. Unless you are too busy. Then you should sit for an hour."
Much Loves,
Angela.
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