A Chair

It begins with the chair. I’ve always preferred a hardback chair. We have none in our house. Sometimes I see old chairs for sale for a few dollars and think that I’ll buy one to have for this purpose.

But our dining room chairs are okay for my meditative purposes. I began meditating while stationed in the Philippines in 1976. I was very regular and disciplined about it for several years before drifting away from the practice. Sometimes, though, the urge to sit quietly in a chair in loose clothing in a silent room and followed the process comes to me. The practices are familiars and comforting. My mantra, established for me by my guru decades ago, still resonates with my core.

Meditating cleanses and focuses me, relaxes and calms me. It lets me listen better and think more clearly. It instills patience and distills my angers and frustrations while reinforcing my will and determination.

I only meditate for twenty minutes any more. Upon emerging, colors are brighter and softer, more vibrant but more separate. I see and hear more clearly. I usually meditate after making my coffee but before drinking it, as I like that smell swirling around me as my breathing deepens.

I’ll sometimes have an out-of-body moment. The first time it happened, six months into meditating, startled me, as I was suddenly looking down on myself from above. More often, my body will do small corrections, and feeling them will bounce me into conscious thoughts and out of the meditative state.

I always end by standing up and stretching. I always feel renewed. It’s not unsurprising to end a session and discover one of my cats contemplating me, just sitting and watching. I feel like the process attracts them.

Or maybe they’re coming over to see why I’m not moving, and are trying to determine if I’m still alive.


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