RIP Story : May 21st, 2024
I came here to meditate but all I see is the fog. I tell myself that I am relaxed but I know it’s a lie. I feel no pain, I feel no rush, but I can’t find rest. I stay because I have hope. I need to believe I have hope. The fog will clear, I kept telling myself and I almost believe my words.
My monologue sounds like I am sad, but I don’t feel sad. I feel like my joy runs on a slippery treadmill. My joy moves with me as I travel this world but when I try to find my footing, I slip, but the world and the treadmill keep moving. The anxiety has no place here in the fog, but I know once I leave this place, it will come back in its time.
I ask questions of the fog and to the fog but there are no answers. I feel like there should be some. I feel like others get their answers, but when I’m here, I don’t hear anything. At least this fog isn’t cold and doesn’t smell like a fishing boat. Though, there is an Ice Cream store in the harbor…..breath, focus.
I am trying. I am here and I want to believe the words I am saying. I don’t know what the solution is and I don’t know if practice will find me the answers, but I have to believe I will be ok. I have to believe that scattered in this dense fog is a warmth that comes with time. Maybe all of these questions are getting in the way of the answers?
What if meditation was my own experience. An activity I made unique to myself. Maybe the answers others find are the answers to the same questions I am asking now, when I should be meditating. This is me; I am who I am, and I am taking this journey the best way I know how. I hear a bird. I want to hear its song. I will stay here a while longer. I can’t see through the fog, and I can’t see the bird, but I can hear its song. A song of hope. A song that makes me smile.
***
There were no answers that day, but there was a discovery of a path to the dark meditation space. Relaxation and peace came in their time, in their way. This day was a good day and I will be back tomorrow.
Thanks for reading, see you tomorrow.
