Meditation is many things.
Meditation is hours of quiet yoga mudras and chanting to music as a candle burns leisurely down to a nub.
Meditation is sitting cross legged on top of a mountain while the dulcet tones of trained squirrels serenade and lead me through self affirming mantras.
Meditation is dancing backwards into a bend on a boogieboard on a tropical sea while fish applaud me.
But alas, those days are behind me. Now with this cat and baby.
These days, it’s me sitting quietly in the bedroom, Charlie still asleep as I chant quietly to myself. I work on clearing my mind. I look down to his cherub lips and marvel how he’s changed already since yesterday.
I hum to myself, sing a little song, settle into my om.
Anxiety has been killing me of late. Finding a quiet places eludes me most days.
Sometimes Charlie wakes earlier, and pronto, it’s time to play. Today was that morning. Da baybee stretches, looks around and smiles some little joke to himself. I squinch down onto the bed to touch my nose to his and throw a big gravelly GRRRR in his direction. He leaps into open arms.
Next in the ritual, the cat knocks at the window. He meow, meows, MEOWS ever more insistently.
“Kiggee,” Charlie screeches with joy. Our enormous black and white spotted cat-cow galumphs from the windowsill and lumbers to the door. His name is The Boy, and it’s impossible to ignore him.
Jumps on bed and breathe. Rolls onto back and breathe. Baby clasps him wide and tight and laugh. They cuddle, my God that is adorable, now they’re holding hands.
I don’t remember what happened the rest of the day. I don’t even remember what day that was, but I love that this day happened.
I think and write often about the small details of life, how if we miss them, we miss everything. Anxiety has had the best of me these days. These are the moments I look for every day to slow down my brain, but anxiety is pimp. It’ll make you believe things.
Enough. I don’t want to think about that shit right now. There are baby and cat videos to watch.