I’ve been getting a little weird lately. I mean, it was only a matter of time. Everyone gets weirder as they get older. Look at your parents, they say the strangest things. I’ve witnessed the coolest people start to get weird. And now it’s my turn. And I’m okay with it honestly, because the weirdest people seem to be the happiest. So, I’ve been meditating. There, I said it. I’ve been sitting on the floor with my legs crossed and my palms open and meditating. I don’t know what to tell you, I’m super into it. I’ve spent a lot of my life talking about things I don’t believe in. I think it’s easy to talk about what you don’t believe in if you can’t find what you do believe in. Religion in general has just never been for me. We all have instincts that we are born with and whenever I was put around religion my instinct was to run. It always seemed to be the people in my life that were behaving the worst who were the closest to God. They seemed to think they had a direct line to what He would like from me, and what he thought of my purple hair (He didn’t like it).
I used to love to say that I was an Atheist. I was a little obnoxious as a child. And teenager. And young adult. (I’m currently perfect.) I just really liked the way it made people act when I said it. They were so offended by it. I always felt like, if you are so sure about your beliefs than it shouldn’t matter if I don’t believe in them. I’ll be the one burning for my sins at the end of the day. Eventually as I got a little older and wiser and softer, I realized I don’t love being someone who doesn’t believe in anything. Maybe I could find something to believe in. So I threw that into the pile of things I needed to work on which also included road rage and waiting until the last minute to pay my cable bill.
The first thing I found myself believing in was yoga. I can’t get myself to a gym, I just can’t do it. Everyone there is the worst. There are too many mirrors everywhere and too many dudes flexing and coming up with ridiculous reasons to talk to you, and too many treadmills, and too many people sweating, and too many hyper trainers, and too many people who are in better shape than me. No thanks. Then there is yoga. Ahhhh the peaceful and non competitive world of yoga. Where no one talks to you. Where no one is on their bluetooth asking their manager for feedback on their audition. Where no one looks at your ass and says “You’re getting there!” Yoga. The positions they ask you to be in, the length of time you have to hold them, the heat from the room, it all makes it impossible to think of anything else besides just getting through it. So, by the end of that hour or so I realize I haven’t invested any time into thoughts about my ex boyfriend who I hate, or that writing I was told “isn’t quite there yet”, or that weird thing my friend said to me that felt passive aggressive, or my mom saying she’s sad, or my bank statement saying I have a lot less in there than I thought I did. None of that has room in my little brain which can only handle thoughts of not passing out while holding warrior 2. So, I found something to believe in. Maybe it’s not a religion, or a tangible connection to God, but it was certainly a good start.
Then my yoga instructor invites me to come to a meditation class. And I’m like, whatever I have to do to have your mellow energy just tell me and I will do it. She smiles so much and I scowl so much, I figured it’s best to follow her lead on this one. I had always thought of meditation as sitting and being quiet while your mind forcefully ran images of the most negative things you could think of and then you feel ashamed of not being able to quiet your mind. At least that’s what it had always been for me. Turns out I was doing it wrong. I sat through a guided meditation and when we finished I felt like I had been hypnotized (If you read my posts faithfully then you know I’ve been hypnotized before). I felt like I was floating. I was shocked at how I had been able to cooperate and not imagine people getting murdered the whole time. Maybe I could do this? At the very least I was going to try.