To begin,
Settle your body into a comfortable position,
Taking a seat that's going to allow you to still,
To quiet,
To feel the breath as it enters your body,
Filling your lungs,
Letting it go.
Welcome to a hit of hope.
As you sit in this quiet,
Imagine you are riding a horse.
It's beautiful,
Strong,
Powerful,
And you sit tall in the saddle as you walk or trot,
Bumpity bumpity,
Through green alfalfa fields under a bright blue sky.
Up a gentle hill you go,
Down along a burbling creek.
You look at your watch,
Turn your horse back toward the barn,
And that's when it happens.
If you've ever ridden a horse before,
You might know exactly what happens.
You can feel the horse gathering its power underneath you,
And before you know it,
That horse is racing through the field,
Hell-bent for leather,
Toward the barn.
If you are not ready for this,
You might be scared as hell and completely out of control.
Your legs maybe even squeeze the horse's ribs to hold on,
But of course that only makes the horse bolt faster.
If you know what you are doing,
You might know that a good course of action is to take one rein and pull it back toward one knee.
You pull the horse's head back to the side,
And staying strong,
You say,
No,
Damn it,
You will listen to me.
And before you know it,
The horse is once again facing away from the barn,
And the horse has stopped.
Both of you are probably panting at that point.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I bet you have some barns in your life.
They can be from the recent past,
That thing you did or said that causes your cheeks to go red,
The coworker who annoys the bejesus out of you.
And all you have to do is take one step in the direction of remembering that,
And off you go.
More likely,
Your barns are pretty old.
All of the red paint has chipped off,
There is rot,
And it's a surprise that they haven't come tumbling down.
But these old barns stand in the field of your mind.
Your barn might be an old hurt,
An if only,
An old story.
You are not good enough,
You are unworthy of love,
You screw everything up.
Once again,
All you have to do is turn even slightly in the direction of that old barn.
It could be a word someone says,
A look,
A scent,
And off you go.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Not turning toward those old barns seems like the best way to keep your mind from racing wildly and out of control.
But if you could do that,
You probably wouldn't need a meditation practice now,
Would you?
Even though your brain weighs only about three pounds,
It has the force and power of a two thousand pound horse.
So what can you do?
Know your barns.
Know the things that are likely to set your mind off and running.
If you can,
Avoid them.
If you can't,
Do what you can to stay strong and in control,
Holding the reins of your mind surely and gently.
And if your mind takes off,
Do not whip it as punishment.
Give it some nourishment,
Some cool water after you've slowed down,
And then begin again.
Something else is to take the advice you might have heard before.
Think the opposite thought.
Or,
To go back to the horse metaphor,
If you feel yourself racing toward the barn,
Pull on one rein until you're facing in the opposite direction.
Thus,
If you are sure you suck,
You stop and think,
You are awesome.
If you berate yourself for having screwed up yet again,
You stop and think,
You are so capable.
Here,
Let me count the ways.
If you get pulled toward something that isn't healthy for you,
A bottle,
A person,
A habit,
You stop and think,
Instead of reaching for that,
I'm going to read this book,
Ride this bike,
Take this walk,
Talk to this dear friend.
And if we don't make that choice,
We are gentle and begin again.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Imagine you are on a horse,
Seated,
Centered,
Now cantering through fields of sweet clover under that bright blue sky.
Namaste.
