Minding meditation

Art by Carol Buchman, ©2006, CarolBuchman.net

So, this would have been the day I wrote about my second successful thirty-day challenge, the one where I not only meditated for ten minutes each day, but also refrained from going on Facebook more than three times a day. But, even though I reported my progress halfway through the month and all seemed to be going well, I’m not writing today about my success. Because a few days after that glowing status update, I blew it.

The Facebook part of the slip-up was a simple accident; I’d already been on three times that day and was very conscious of doing so. But when a friend and I showed up at a venue for a comedy show later that night and weren’t sure we had the right place, I instinctively flicked onto my phone’s Facebook app to check the invite. I suppose I could have overlooked the mistake, since my intention was the equivalent of checking email, but my thirty-day challenge was two-fold, and Saturday was also the day I failed to meditate. I hadn’t felt like it after sleeping in, and didn’t get around to it during the day, and by the time I accidentally checked Facebook my evening was underway. It’s true I could have somehow found the time and space before midnight, but at that point I didn’t even care. I gave up.

I meant to write about my abandoned efforts sooner, but I’ve had a lot going on and it’s not like I was exactly eager to flaunt my failure. I know I’m not supposed to consider it failure so much as a learning opportunity, but, whatever the label, I’m not really bothered. Nor have I started another challenge. And as another month starts, I’m unsure whether I want to.

I really do love the idea of a guided retreat and an exploration into compassionate self-discipline, and maybe the problem is that I need to have a hard copy of Cheri Huber’s Making a Change for Good on hand instead of holding vague memories from reading it two months ago. But in my current day-to-day, sitting for ten minutes each morning seems like a drag. There. I said it. I’d rather hit snooze.

I’m not sure why I’m going through this rebellious streak; I know I benefit from meditation, and it’s not like ten minutes will make or break my morning. But for the last week or two, I’ve been harboring the childish notion of “don’t wanna.” And, since it’s summer, and I’m not going to beat myself up over it, I haven’t pushed the issue.

But it is the beginning of another month, and also the day of the new moon, and I believe in fresh starts. So I will contemplate my resistance and reevaluate my choices. Maybe there is a middle ground, somewhere between rigid adherence to Cheri Huber’s instructions and careless dismissal of discipline. Maybe I’ll commit to meditating five minutes each day instead of ten. Yes, it’d be a step backward from where I was, but it’d still be a step forward from where I am….