Monday, January 17, 2011

take that, January

January kind of grabs you by the ankles, doesn't it? Laughs a sarcastic I told you so as the magic of the holidays ebbs away completely? Hands you a plate of cold mash when you know your table is filled with all things warm and delicious? Stuff that sticks to your ribs. Only you can't taste any of it.


It's 10pm. A different day but the same story. Work done, ready for bed, I'm looking forward to sitting on the floor -- spine tall, breath deep -- and emptying my mind. {Meditate one minute per day -- a new resolution.}

But then I remember what I forgot -- a chore I put off all day. John's work pants aren't going to unwrinkle themselves, and I'm sorry to say that if the ironing fairy exists, she is me. John could do it himself, I know, but this is something I'm usually happy to do for him. He does so much for me.

I'm grumbling about the lateness, though. And feeling disheartened that I can't even take care of my spirit in this very simple, very brief way.

But make a decision.

I pat January on the head and send him off to bed. I'm sick of him whining around the corners of the house, telling me how to feel.

Sweet June whispers in my ear. Let this be your meditation.


I've done this before.

I'm not sitting in meditation. But my brow is relaxed and I pull the stopper in my mind and let everything leak out all over the floor. When thoughts bubble up, I flatten them carefully and with a gentle exhale, send them away like dandelion tufts on a summer breeze.

And when I'm done, I decide to still take my seated minute. My mind is in the right place anyway, and its not so late afterall.


January tries to drag me down. But sometimes all I need is a fresh snowfall and the world looks new again. Old patterns of thought are erased and I'm leaving footprints on an untouched landscape. It's a new day.