Toddler (Mind) in a Toy Store

My almost-son-in-law and I were talking about meditation the other day. He knows waaaaay more about Buddhism than I probably ever will, and he talked about stuff like concentration and insight as the two kinds of meditation, the concept of taking refuge, working with a guru, and other ideas somewhat beyond me…for the time being.

I suppose mindfulness meditation is a kind of concentration meditation, but the labels don’t matter to me right now. It’s enough for me right now – maybe enough for this lifetime – to just work on turning this waterfall (aka burst dam) of perpetual thoughts down a notch.

I skipped a couple of days while my grandkids were visiting (a lousy excuse, since they slept in till 9-ish), but I was actually comforted to get back to the cushion this morning as the kids slumbered on. And as I settled in, I briefly reminded myself that I wasn’t there to think about my breath, concentrate on my breath, gain insight into my breathing, analyze my breath or come to any realization about breathing. I was just there to gently put my attention on my breath – to notice it – without judgment or internal commentary. And I was there to temporarily brush thoughts away – again, not with judgment or self-criticism for having them in the first place.

It’s absolutely amazing how many times in one 15-20 minute sitting I have to guide my attention back to my breath. My mind is like an impatient toddler in a toy store. But I guess that’s why Buddhism doesn’t call it perfection – they call it practice. I need all the practice I can get.