Recently, my partner and I went on a two night camping trip with our dogs. The second morning, I was lying on a picnic table, looking up at the trees, and pondering the irony that this place was a beautiful spot to meditate, but I hadn’t stopped to meditate once. Letting out a wistful sigh, I commented as such to my partner.
“You’ve been on vacation relaxing, I think you’ll be fine,” he responded.
Looking back on it now, his response doesn’t seem that absurd. He’s seen me meditating, and since we hadn’t talked about it, how would he know that within my quiet outward appearance, my mind is always a swirling war of distraction. But in the moment, I was very confused because his response didn’t make any sense. To me, relaxation and meditation are barely related. They’re more like distant cousins who occasionally see each other at Thanksgiving dinner. After a few moments of staring at him in confusion, my mind landed on the stunning conclusion: He has no idea why I meditate. Continue reading