Buddhist Geeks Retreat 2015

Upright and Relaxed

Returning Again and Again to Formal Meditation Practice

This morning was one of those rare mornings that I sat upright, relaxed, and on a meditation cushion. And yes, there is a voice in my head that says, “shhhh don’t tell everyone that! You’re a meditation teacher!” It is true. My son is 9 months old and my formal meditation practice has changed shape since he was born. However, this morning I was reminded that sitting in a formal meditation posture is a form of love.

As in all forms of love, my relationship with sitting in this style has changed over time. It has ebbed and flowed and waxed and waned. Coupled with meditation, this posture has taken me to the edges of the universe-to where space and time seem to collapse. It has also taken me into the depths of my own darkness and personal stories.

With practice the mind and heart quietens so that body can relax into itself. We open and access a spaciousness of presence that gives birth to creativity. It doesn’t always feel glorious and yet, isn’t that what allows the emergence of human potential? Without some of the challenge, could we really be who we are as human beings.

Over the past decade, I have learned to trust my relationship with formal meditation practice. When I first started I trained everyday for years. I went on a multitude of silent meditation retreats and I’ve trained for the last 4 years in the @Spirit_Rock and @InsMedSoc prestigious retreat teacher training. This intensive training has allowed me to relax and know that cycles happen. Life happens. My practice takes shape on and off the cushion. While nursing my child, rocking him to sleep, being attentive during mealtimes, changing diapers-my mind and heart can still rest in silence. He too gets the benefits.

Nonetheless, returning again to my formal posture, on my cushion, in our meditation space-felt like love. A remembering that this practice is at the heart of my life and WOW how it has changed it.

Bowing to the mystery in all of us.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.