Sometimes it’s exactly when the body is least proud, when it expects nothing, hopes for nothing, that it can become a vessel for a meditative state. I almost didn’t go to yoga class tonight because my bones were aching and my lungs were tight. But I made myself walk up the stairs to the studio. I needed to get quiet and slow. I’m no expert. When it comes to meditation I have to do it by feel. I gave up long ago trying to empty my mind. It’s never worked for me. Instead, with my eyes closed, I try to close my mind’s eyes too. It’s like walking in a familiar house with a blindfold on. Everything is still there–the furniture, the dirty dishes, the pictures on the wall–but I move around them carefully, slowly, with my hands stretched out. That’s what meditating means to me. I move among my…
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