Over the past six weeks I have been cultivating a more mindful and meditative routine.
I have anxiety. While my baseline mood is lower than it was in my previous life, I still have moments and phases where that little monster still pokes his head into every day life. Mindfulness and meditation always help me consistently, but they are often the first things that waver in trying moments. My little anxiety monster most often takes the form of Rage, the character from Inside Out. He wanders around in a fairly static state, but in the midst of an anxiety attack his head immolates spontaneously and I see flame. I see shame.
After a recent episode, I knew I needed to recommit. While I don’t meditate daily, but I aim to have a meditation session and be more mindful moment-to-moment on a majority of days of the week. Several weeks ago, I learned about interbeing. It made so much sense, and put into words the feeling I often have as a mother and a caretaker to a natural property.
Today I meditated. I sat on a large rock in my field, a rock that predates me by a century or more, crisp fall air around me, facing my field, my animals. As I sometimes am, I was overwhelmed. These moments of overwhelm are never expected. I sat, hands over my heart, and I could feel my own heart reaching to those of the animals in my care, my heartbeat calling to theirs, connecting. I could feel my feet planted firmly on the grass, the cells of each blade growing and stretching. I could feel the heartbeats of my daughters a mile away at school, could smell the scent of their hair as I inhaled. I could feel the heartbeats of my nieces and nephews, those I’ve already met, those I’ve already held, and the two new soles joining us in just few weeks.
It is for these moments, with tears streaming down my face and happiness and appreciation for all that I have, that I will continue to do my very best. For my children, for all children, for my animals, for me, and for you. I love you. All of you.