It’s 1:58 pm and I’m on the sectional in our family room. I’ve been sitting here writing for about 30 minutes, but 5 minutes ago my cat came into the room. He took one look at me sitting here with my laptop coming up with words. Guiding them into sentences. Actually focused for the first time in who knows how long… and decided he needed to be on my lap. 

He is now. 

I’m not sure how it happened. I never did stop typing but somehow now my entire upper torso is pivoted to the right to use my bent right knee to support my laptop as it wobbles when I press the keys. So yeah. Typing has gotten a little less comfortable and my posture is dreadful.

The things we do for cats.

Earlier, in my head, I was composing a brilliant talk or a post or a very extended thought about mindfulness and what it means to me. But then with the cat needing my lap and everything I was thrown off. 

And that I think sums up my current ability to think and figure stuff out. Just when things start to feel like they might settle down for a moment and I can focus on something, anything really, some little thing that is completely harmless comes along and throws my whole being into chaos.

Am I sad? Am I numb? Am I anxious? Am I just very very tired? Can I have a cookie? How hot is it outside right now? I wish I could unbend my leg because my foot is falling asleep. 

The cacophony of thoughts that each must be heard in turn goes on and on.

Also, don’t tell my cat I said he’s harmless. It might hurt his pride. But seriously, dude won’t kill a bug.

So back to those swirling thoughts. 

I’ve gotten better at quieting some of those. I’m back on my meditation shit again. 

The first time I can remember doing guided meditation, and calling it by that name, I was a Freshman in highschool laying on the linoleum floor of the building that acted as our cafeteria and also theater. Our theater teacher had dimmed the lights and all of the students were resting on the cool hard floor. She began to walk us through a guided visualization of ourselves as rose bushes. 

My anxiety in high school was off the charts, though I didn’t know to call it that. Just getting out the door to school was a huge victory against my anxiety. I missed so much school because I could not get out the door because I could not go to that place with all of those people. Ugh. I still can’t think about it without feeling nervous. Sick. Panicked. Overwhelmed. Sad. Incapable.

But on that day, laying in the dark on the cool floor with our teacher’s rich, well enunciated voice to guide me I felt calm. It reminded me of the stories I would tell myself in my head while I was preparing to sleep. Boring stories. Stories of everything being fine and normal and actually very slow paced. Easy. Those were a meditation of sorts and I didn’t know it.

I’ve woven meditation into and out of my life for years. Some of the coping mechanisms I’ve long used to mitigate and salve my anxiety are deeply similar to practices in meditation I’ve found myself learning through the decades. So when I pick up my meditation practice after having discarded it…Well it feels like home. 

Which begs the question why do I ever let myself weave meditation practice out of my daily life. And you know what… I can’t tell you. You’d think I’d do the thing that I both enjoy and am aware makes my quality of life foundationally better. But that’s a big part of what I’m dealing with right  now. Being human. I’m human. I make mistakes. 

Like.. constantly. That’s what I do. But I also make progress. 

So like I said, I’m back on my meditation shit. I want to say let’s hope I stick with it but hope has never sustained me in the past… 

I guess I’ll have to go with maximum effort instead.