Monkey

Six weeks of meditation merely shows little progress. I say little even though my focus and sense of calm have improved. When you do Vipassana and don’t follow the five precepts, your meditation will be weak. There are moments I’m obsessed with the calm, especially in the morning—getting up at 7:30 a.m. when my dog decides to stay in bed with his dad. That’s when my crucial 45 minutes of silence begins. However, my monkey mind seeks food and thinks of the movie from the night before. It flies through the past and the future until I grab it by the neck. But my grip isn’t always strong. When I focus on my breath brushing against my upper lip, I hear the cars on 14th Avenue.

I grew up on the main road; therefore, it doesn’t bother me as much. Though what it does is bring me back to the past, which sometimes is a comfortable place. Then I have to get the monkey back to the present. I notice the importance of mindfulness and being in the present moment, even if my occasional allergic rhinitis makes it hard to concentrate every other morning. During the day, I am a working zombie, sometimes fearing the light, but loving the autumn sun’s reflection on the golden leaves. At night, I try to wind down with Ludovico Einaudi in the background. I don’t know what it is he does on the piano that always stimulates my creative engine. Next, I become homesick for something that hasn’t been written yet.

Sometimes it’s easier to meditate in the evenings. You know you get to rest soon.

I do it when my other half takes the dog for a walk, or when our dog chooses to be with him in the basement.

Did the year pass me by, or did I simply ignore it? Did reality hit so hard that we’re still unconscious?

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