Watch the Waves to Become Buoyant
When I was a kid, I took a bath after an evening of The Muppet Show.
I’d get in the tub feeling all-out silly from whatever riot Animal played on the drums and Ralph tickled on the keys of the piano.
I’d step into the tub and plop myself down hard to start the waves.
The bathtub water spun and lapped in agitation as I rumbled my knees.
Perhaps the movement of the water matched the non-stop swirl of my spirit.
Then came my favorite part: Watching the water find its way to stillness.
I’d study the waves that go from rocky and big to tiny ripples at the edges of the tub.
Out to the edges, in towards the center, out to the edges, in towards the center.
My breath would end up going from staccato laughter to smooth laps in and out through my child-smile.
Quiet, clean, and content, I’d be set for bed.
It makes me think of how meditation works.
Every morning, I’m filled with my mind’s agitation about all the to-do lists, tasks, and appointments.
It’s a wave pool of thoughts that’s hard to slow down; just as I couldn’t make a riot in the bathtub and instantly come to stillness.
I sit on my grey meditation cushion in the same corner of my living room at the same time each day.
I’ve come to expect it just as I expected a bath at the end of The Muppet Show.
The certainty of the practice makes it an easier ritual to sustain.
My mind swirls with agenda items lapping and rocking against my skull.
It can be hard to sit still some mornings.
Yet, I breathe.
I find a Buddha smile in my heart and observe my thoughts, just as I watched the water all those years ago.
I bear witness to my mind slowing down.
It’s actually a buoyant process because all I need to do is observe my breath’s movement.
Out to the edges, in towards the center, out to the edges, in towards the center.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
My thoughts slow and I clear the clutter in my heart and mind.
I’m left with the most important piece of what was an inner storm—myself at the center.
I once thought this stillness was supposed to appear as soon as I sat when I started the practice fifteen years ago.
Over time, I discovered the process is the gift of meditation as much as the stillness within.
The process of observing myself carried over to becoming responsive, not reactive, to events in my life.
Have you given yourself the space to bear witness to the process?
Have you held yourself with patience to allow yourself to lap into stillness?
Give it a go for five minutes today.
Ride the buoyancy that comes within and let it bring you to newness.