The cacophany of stress.


Day 267 – In the silence of the dining room, I sit down to meditate.  It felt like a fruitless practice.  My breath ragged could not be soothed; my thoughts led me here and there.  The din of this week resounds.  I am restless and my belly aches today with the anticipation of a Friday school day–hoping it is easier than the day before.  I hear the two younger cats whirring under the table and immediately think of Shadow, our big baby kitty who got out on Monday.  She often headbutts me as I meditate, flops on the floor near my lap, or just bumps into the computer.  She sleeps on my head and then moves to my feet.  She is big, and dumb, and sweet; I miss her. I’m worried about her.

Today, Rolf asks us to pause and breathe with our full attention, to be enraptured in the silence of Dhikr, the remembrance of god, which is “flowing in and out with the breath, like a secret tide.”  He invites us to “spend a moment in silence” floating on that secret tide.  I really tried to tap into it today, but I just couldn’t.  I felt so distressed about everything.  I breathed.  Everything seems so contracted right now.  I know this, too, shall pass, and I set the intention to go and be with Nature at some point this weekend.


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