I long to be able to meditate "properly". To be quiet and still and present.
I know it takes practice. I have tried to start with baby steps...but I just never seem to remember to do it. I mostly remember about 2 minutes before I fall asleep. And by then it's a bit late because, let's be honest, "meditating" while lying down in bed looks an awful lot like sleeping. And usually turns into sleep about 3 minutes into the exercise. Trust me. I've done this more than once.
And so I find that I'm not ever quite sure I do meditation right. I spend a lot of time thinking about what I'm thinking about and whether I'm supposed to be thinking at all. And what being present really is or really means.
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The other day, my not-so-little baby fell asleep in my arms. This happens still every now and then. He gave up naps a while ago, but if he has had a long day, he can't avoid sleep.
I sat still. With the heavy warm weight of him in my arms. Enjoying the late afternoon sun on my shoulders and watching it soak the golden hair that he didn't get from me. There was nothing else to do. When you have a sleeping child in your arms you don't do anything except be still.
You stay still so you don't distub their rest.
You stay still because you don't want to break the spell.
You stay still because this might be the very last time they fall asleep in your arms and you want to enjoy every second of it.
You stay still because you want to absorb the memory of their face in this moment.
You stay still because you can. Because no one is going to ask anything of someone with a sleeping child in their arms. There is nothing more important that you should be doing.
And so it occured to me that this might be meditation.
Absolute focus on the present. Without judgement or guilt. The happiness that comes from quiet watching. Being still and holding. And absorbing every second until reality returns and life starts to move again.
