Thursday, February 7, 2013

how not to meditate

if i see that "if every 8 year old in the world knew how to mediate" meme again, i'm probably going to scream.

it's not that i don't agree with the sentiment... i do. it's just that the kid in the picture makes meditation look so damn she's curing cancer and solving a quadratic equation all in one sitting. damn overachiever...

my sentiment is that if this 34 year old knew how to meditate, then maybe there'd be less drama in this zip code. not that i'm rife with drama or anything, but my head, well, it can be anarchy sometimes and i wonder how much more productive i'd be if i could wrangle it into submission.

the kids cooperated relatively early this week and went to bed before midnight. p wasn't home from work yet and i had a huge living room floor all to myself, no nba games on, and nothing but boring ol' castle reruns to ignore. let the meditation begin...

i sat.

the first thought that floated through was how hungry i was.

"i just ate," i argued with myself.

"i want a cookie," my meditating mind said. "there's a stash you bought the kids in the pantry. it's just four steps away. get me a cookie. get. the. damn. cookie."

i'm not a big cookie fan, mind you. i mean, if i made them i can snarf the whole batch...but those things from wal-mart that are good enough for my kids are really more like chemical equations some baker/scientists figured out than actual food.

i gave up the cookie thought and watched it roll on down the meditation highway. so long, cookie.

then i got antsy. and fidgety. and my quads burned like i'd done sprints all morning and the thought made me laugh because i haven't done sprints since sometime long  before andrew was born.

and while my imaginary muscles were sore, i thought about mma. and my mind got aggresive and wanted to make me some badass action hero so i thought about fights except i couldn't picture an opponent's face...i'm 34 years old, i stay at home with my four kids...i don't really have enemies or rivals anymore so the best thing i could drum up was the girl who kicked me out of our club "girls with style" in fourth grade.

wasn't much of a fight seeing how i'm well into my third decade and tiffany was still 9 years old. i felt sort of like a bully as the timer on my phone went off.

i stood up...hungry, sore from an imaginary workout, and feeling guilty for beating up a fourth grader.

meditation: 0, megan: 1.


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