It's nearly the end of October and I am in the middle of a one woman war... a war with meditation. Every day I try to meditate. And every time I sit down to practice a meditation, I either distract myself by fidgeting like a panicked chipmunk or by sneakily reaching for my phone like a teenager in class (even though there is no one here to catch me). On the occasions that I manage to sit still for a whole five minutes, my brain whirs into obsessive planning, worrying, thinking about that ex-boyfriend, that I'm too cold, hot, hungry, BORED, and then the ultimate frying pan in the face thought, that I am one big failure...
When we come into true meditation, we are coming back to ourselves, connecting with our core being. Well, right now, I am not quite ready for that, and that's totally cool. So, I'm trying a different tactic this month. Instead of bringing myself into stillness, I'm bringing myself into movement, into nature. Most mornings, I am going for a walk around my local park, the gorgeous Brockwell Park near Brixton. The hour long circular walk is either done in silence or listening to a podcast. All thoughts of work, social media and ex-boyfriends are banned. If I feel like it, I take photos of trees, leaves, the sky, not to put on social media, but for me. I have made this a ritual, something sacred. This is my moving meditation and I love it.
We have such a set idea of what meditation should look like and how it should feel. Right now, walking is my way into meditation. Walking is helping me find that mental quiet in a non scary way. I'm learning what I like and what I need. My core self loves a walk, even in the pouring rain.
