I am ringed with candles I'm forbidden to light. At my side, a box of matches. On my other, a jar half filled with water.
I've decided to try my hand at meditating, seeing as I took so well to yoga. My room is a poor enough space, but thoughts don't need a palace. All you need is strength and peace. Simple enough, although simple things are the most difficult to grasp.
And it is hard.
It's hard to keep your spine straight and allow for the smooth transfer of energies up and down the length of your body. It's hard to keep your eyes shut and not slouch. It's hardest of all to empty your mind.
Ridding my brain of words is a game I've played since I was very young. The babble I eliminated with hardly any trouble, but I couldn't push away the awareness that I was sitting in my room. Unbidden, the image of my room- the unmade bed, the seashells, the lamp- would come and swim behind closed eyelids. I didn't think about it, and I didn't allow myself to examine the details, but it was there.
I tried so hard to empty my mind but I saw white. White is not empty. Or else I saw a room with no windows and a lot of empty space. But that's not emptiness either. Nothingness isn't something I'm equipped to handle right now. I guess the point of meditation is to strive towards complete tranquility, complete serenity of mind, body, and soul.
I've learned a lot, still. It's easy to will yourself to stop actively thinking, but near impossible to expand that same will to stop the deluge of thoughts. The first is carried by words: "I'm cold". "I wonder what's for breakfast". Humming the words of a song. Trying to attach meaning to nothingness.
The latter is hearing the voices of children outside. It's feeling the cool sheets against your skin and wanting to climb back into bed.
I have realized that they two are separate.
I guess that's a start.
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