Bookends

We know we’re taller in the morning than we are at night, after the compressive stresses of the day have weighed in. (See Monday’s blog). Now imagine what a day’s worth of interaction, decision-making and experience-processing does to our emotions.

Emotional compression is just as natural a reaction to the stresses of daily life as is gravity-driven physical compression. You may wake in the morning feeling expanded and energetic only to sense the day’s events slowly eroding your optimism and sense of well-being. Add gray skies (yup, we get ‘em in the Bahamas, too) and occasional illness, whether minor or serious, and it gets tough to hang on to happy.

Unless you’ve got a pair of bookends.

Whether you think of them as mini-meditations or simply reflective moments, bookends are a way to bracket each day with conscious intention. Here’s how they might look for you:

After waking, sit quietly for five minutes or more. Inhale a sense of expansiveness into your whole inner being. Welcome light through every pore and feel for a cellular shimmer. Just as you might at the beginning of your yoga practice, set a gentle intention for your day, like: laugh. Now take an emotional snapshot of how you feel right now and file it somewhere; you’ll come back to it.

Before going to bed, sit quietly for five minutes or more. Inhale and expand. Welcome peace into your body and mind. Release the day. Gaze at the morning’s emotional snapshot until you recognize yourself. Sweet dreams.

Driving Lessons: Part 2

The Meditation Story (continued from last entry):

Meditation stools, if you’ve never seen or used one, are elegantly simple. Two solid sides support a slanted seat positioned just high enough off the ground for the legs to tuck under. I asked Fritz to build me one for Christmas, but later changed my mind. We were busy with company during the holidays and I was sure he wouldn’t have time to work on it.

I missed having a stool though, especially for early morning sessions. Maybe your legs are ready to fold into virasana (hero’s pose) or sukhasana (easy pose) at 6:30 am. Mine aren’t. Add predawn body aches to a mind already buzzing with thoughts, stories and commentary and I’ve soon embarked on a meditation that feels more like a beehive than peaceful emptiness. (Meditation guideline #1: Get comfortable).

It's worth the preparation. Time spent meditating is time spent releasing the need to know where you're going, of what life will look like in five minutes, tomorrow, next year. It shoos your mind out of the way (go play somewhere else, Mommy’s busy) until you can rest in the quiet space between what you think, and what is.

Luckily, even though Fritz was busy, Santa had some spare time. On Christmas morning the stool was there under the casuarina pine tree (think Charlie Brown). Its blonde wood was streaked with highlights and flecked with wispy threads of darker pigment, like lace.

And so the salvaged plank of lacewood had come full circle. Part of it was used to repair a rudder: necessary for traveling in a particular direction. The rest was used to support meditation: allowing oneself to be present, directionless and exquisitely whole.

Now that’s what I call balance.