Hello,
I'm Sarah.
I love the centering prayer practice,
But I found that I prefer to begin my sitting practice with a seasonal reflection of some sort,
To remind me of my interconnectedness with the human and more-than-human world.
I thought I would begin sharing my meditations here in case there are others who enjoy a bit of centering,
Followed by stillness and silence in their practice.
Catch up with my writing on the benefits of living seasonally and leaning into the wisdom and rhythms of nature at sarahbytheseason.
Com.
Let's settle into a comfortable position,
Whatever feels good for you today.
Bringing some awareness to your breath,
Noticing your inhales and exhales,
And perhaps gently lengthening them and breathing into your heart to bring a little extra energy into your heart space.
During the summer season,
According to traditional Chinese medicine,
We focus on the heart and small intestine meridians,
Those energy lines that traditional Chinese medicine tell us run throughout our bodies.
We tend to think about how best to love others when we think about that heart energy,
But a love and compassion practice must begin with ourselves if it is to be lasting and sustainable.
And so with that in mind,
Today's bit of wisdom comes from James Crewe's poem titled Self-Compassion.
So I will read the words of Crewe's poem.
Perhaps you notice a word or phrase that sticks out to you that you want to use to center your stillness practice.
Or perhaps there's some other anchor,
Your breath,
Sense of groundedness,
Whatever works for you.
This is Self-Compassion by James Crewe.
My friend and I snickered the first time we heard the meditation teacher,
A grown man,
Call himself Honey,
With a hand placed over his heart to illustrate how we too might become more gentle with ourselves and our runaway minds.
It's been years since we sat with legs twisted on cushions,
Holding back our laughter.
But today I found myself crouched on the floor again,
Not meditating exactly,
Just agreeing to be still.
Saying Honey to myself each time I thought about my husband splayed on the couch with aching joints and fever from a tick bite.
What if he never gets better?
Or considered the threat of more wildfires,
The possible collapse of the Gulf Stream,
Then remembered that in a few more minutes,
I'd have to climb down to the cellar and empty the bucket I placed beneath a leaky pipe that can't be fixed until next week.
How long do any of us really have before the body begins to break down and empty its mysteries into the air?
Oh,
Honey,
I said for once without a trace of irony or blush of shame,
A touch of my own hand on my chest,
Like that of a stranger,
Oddly comforting in spite of the facts.
And so now we will sit together in silence and stillness.
And at the end of the 10 minutes,
A bell will announce the close of our time together.
Bringing some awareness back to the room you find yourself in,
Maybe rubbing your fingertips together,
Wiggling your toes,
Maybe taking some bigger movements if that feels good.
A big stretch,
Or rubbing your legs or your arms.
Thank you for practicing with me today.
I hope you have a beautiful day,
Whatever season you find yourself in.
