I’ve been practicing meditation for around 3,000 days now.
That number still surprises me as I say it.
Over that time, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve seen new angles to see the world. New ways of understanding what this spiritual life even is. Things I honestly didn’t think were available to me.
But when I first started, I couldn’t sit still for two minutes. Not exaggerating.
Two minutes felt impossible. And for most, it’s harder than it sounds. Maybe it was my ADHD. Maybe my dis-regulated nervous system or my stressful career path was to blame.
I didn’t believe I was built for meditation. I thought it was for calmer people. Quieter people. People with less going on. For caucasian people or Asian people. But not me.
And on top of that, I didn’t know of anyone that spoke like a normal human being, that could tell me how. Or why, someone even needed to sit quietly and focus on their breath, or if I was doing it right.
All I had was a documentary on Netflix about how monks have special healing powers, and I wanted those powers.
If this sounds familiar, take refuge that now we have each other. I want to share some of the lessons i’ve learned.
I would try to sit still and I couldn’t - until I realized that the first critical part of any meditation is what happens right before it starts.
Permission.
You have to give yourself permission to sit.
If you don’t give yourself permission to sit, it won’t happen. Period.
When you first come to the practice, just giving yourself permission to be still can feel like a lot. And it only gets harder when life is busy. When you’re stressed. When something’s off. When your mind is loud. Or you’re in pain. or late. or depressed. or anxioius.
Which is wild, because those are usually the exact moments you need the practice the most.
This was my first lesson. Permission.
I think I want to use this space to share these lessons I’ve learned through my path. And share them like a human person. And not a mediation guru robot.
Still, It’s worth noting what I learned next.
At some point, I stopped trying to do meditation “right” and started doing meditation as a gift i gave to myself. Not a duty or a workout - but as a very short vacation from all my stress. Then I showed up. Consistently. I had a two minute meditation I listened to in my ears, all day long. Every bathroom visit and moment between tasks was an opportunity to get lost.
That was the second lesson: Consistency creates joy.
A teacher and friend of mine in Nashville, likes to say it this way.
Brushing your teeth once a week doesn’t work very well. You have to do it daily.
Meditation works the same way.
—Jenifer Wang, Nashville BIPOC Sangha
The image stuck in my head, like plaque on teeth that haven’t been brushed in two weeks. Inspired by her words, there is a practice I’d like to call Brushing the Heart.
Like brushing your teeth. You don’t overthink it. You don’t wait until conditions are perfect. You just do it. Every day. Because it adds up.
This practice is almost nothing.
It’s the most simple meditation practice you can incorporate into your daily life.
Three mindful breaths. Do it with me.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.
That’s it.
The idea is that the three breaths, done on purpose, brings you back to this present moment.
You can do it anywhere. Sitting. Standing. In the car before you walk inside. In the bathroom. In the middle of a hard day.
For those looking to start meditating, this is the bare minimum practice. Not as a diss. As a truth. It’s the smallest practice I know that can bring you back to the present moment.
Some moments, three breaths is all you’ll get.
And in those moments, that’s enough.
Let’s try it again. And when you do it.
Say to yourself. “I know I am breathing in”
Then, “I know I am breathing out”
“In…Out.”
Follow the breath from start to finish. And try to enjoy it.
It’s said that, “Stress is the gap between, where you are and where you want to be.”
With every breath, you return here. To the present moment. The only place joy is possible to realize.
One more time:
“In. And out.”
That’s brushing the heart.
Do it once, twice or as many times you need.
Do it every time you pick up your phone. Or whenever you get in your car. Or first thing when you rise.
Nothing to fix or become.
Some days it’s all you’ll manage.
Some days it’s all you need.
And for this moment, that’s enough.
