A Million Beginnings

At a conference last fall where I was giving a poetry reading, I had my aura photographed by a conference exhibitor because, well, why not? When my picture finally came up on the screen, with seven charkas clearly visible in a background of gold, the woman stared for a few minutes, looked at me, looked at the screen, and said, “I have nothing to tell you. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” She went on for a while, telling me how balanced I am, how my aura suggests no signs of stress or upheaval. I smiled, thanked her, paid and left with my beautiful picture. But inside, I was dumbfounded. Inside, I was churning. Inside, my aura & charkas felt more like the other picture here—dim lights trying to shine through a field of clutter and electricity.

In the convergence of the end of last semester, the beginning of this one, Thanksgiving for 21 (plus 5 dogs), Christmas, and the onset of another South Dakota (mostly) sunless, blizzardy winter, I haven’t had time to meditate. Then last week, it finally hit me that the things I DO find time for—more coffee, Facebook, eating enough carbs to send a Grizzly into a hibernative coma, sulking, pouting, gnashing of teeth, etc.—were TAKING my time, energy, probably health but not GIVING me anything.

So I went back to the cushion. It’s taking some work, too, after my long, lazy absence: re-reading chapters in Turning the Mind into an Ally…rededicating my home space with clean linens, new candles, fresh incense…getting back to this blog (for myself and for other slackers who slink away from the cushion so long they think they can’t come back)…practicing intention & awareness throughout the day instead of barreling along, hurried & oblivious.

I’ve been back at it a few days now. I keep my aura picture on the fridge for inspiration. And finally, as I start to feel that glimmer of peacefulness, mindfulness, again I know: I don’t have time NOT to meditate.