sick and tired

No, I am not sick and tired of meditating. I am literally sick, and tired. With all the intensity this past week, beginning college, changing workplaces, having sick kids, I guess it was bound to happen. Somehow, it is actually quite metaphorical for my meditation experience thus far. I sit down to practice, and all sorts of things rush into my mind as being urgent, needing attention RIGHT NOW. And I put them aside, over and over, beginning again to empty my mind. And this sickness is a physical urgency, a screaming siren on the road to self care, that reminds me of the dangers of stress and the outcome of forgetting to take care of myself.

And it gets in the way of Anapana, big time. How is one supposed to focus on the breath, on the point at which the breath leaves the nose, when the nose itself feels packed full of wool roving? I try to recalibrate, to focus instead on my breath as it leaves my lungs dense and heavy, my throat sore, my lips, dry and cracked. And this is even less helpful. Like a Buddhist, meditating on his own corpse, I attempt to find peace amidst the knowledge of the limitations of my body. Unlike a Buddhist in such a meditation, I am too new to this not to let it fill my mind with self pity.

Yet this experience is just as real and valid as any other. And slowing down to experience it honors the reality of a life, that is filled not just with joy and pleasure, but with challenge and discomfort as well. And so I sit, and I try not to watch the clock, and I feel my breath as it is right now. The seasons are shifting into the short wet days, and like so many others, my body goes through it's own short, wet season in the Pacific Northwest.