“Don’t think. Feel.”
The old line from Star Wars rattles in the skull
as I try to meditate.
I try to feel my breath
I recognize my sensations in my body
I hear something, note that I am hearing it and then move on
I focus on my breath
“Don’t think. Feel.”
I’m trying to, Yoda!
The mind wanders off
like a lost dog
roaming the streets
I try to be nice to my lost dog mind
and gently call him back
Sometimes he listens
But sometimes
he keeps roaming
I never yell at him
or flick him on the nose
I treat him like a good friend
and just try to nudge him along
“Don’t think. Feel.”
Okay, Yoda, but I am thinking about not thinking.
I am thinking about feeling.
Feeling about thinking.
Sometimes,
very rarely,
I actually reach a deep meditative state
I am there but not there
Time is strange in this state
But I think that it only last for a few seconds
Maybe a few minutes
I never check my phone afterwards to see the time
Could be hours
and I’d never know
“Don’t think. Feel.”
I can never use the force though, Yoda.
I know that’s not the point.
I know there is no destination for meditation.
Like everything, it’s a long journey that I must have no expectations for.
But Yoda,
it would be so cool
to make a boulder float
Some day.
“Don’t think. Feel.”
. . .
Then my stomach growls.
-C.H.