Sitting cross-legged on the carpet in my apartment, I am trying to meditate.
I am feeling pretty uncomfortable. I think I would be able to do this better if I could switch the cross of my legs.
I switch the cross of my legs.
A corner of my eye itches. I will scratch it. I will scratch it and then peace and I will be one.
I scratch it, and as I do my head itches, and my nose. I keep touching it.
My brain is just as unsettled. I begin to go over all the things I need to do right after my meditation.
Come back. Come back to your breath but I can’t yes you can come back.
I want to stretch out my neck. I want to stretch out my neck and then silence will be mine.
This is how I learn that I have now. I need to meet it all as it is — my restlessness and itchiness and my fidgety, fidgety nature.
I need to sit in joy and pleasure and discomfort and pain and itchiness.
It will not be better later. I will never be perfectly comfortable and as such the time to be perfectly still is now.
Life is just like this.
Things will be perfect just as soon as I figure out what I want. When I lose five pounds and go to India on a vacation and wrap up my latest certification and get a new job.
Life would be perfect if only I didn’t feel so lost or if I can figure out what I want to be.
But the belief that happiness is somewhere else after someone comes in or is gone, as soon as you do whatever, is a distraction, a decoy, from what I have to put in order, within myself.
If only I can accept now. Find happiness now.
It’s all I’ve got.
