Sunday, January 3, 2010
"There can never be nothing... there's always something."
We were kneeling in the snow after a wrestling match and Cutter had paused in eating his snow snack in order to make this observation. He seemed truly fascinated by this thought.
It led me to talk about why I meditate, because there is always something, it's true, but that we don't always have to be drawn away from where we are by what else there is. I asked if he recognized that look in my eyes when we play, that look which tells him that I've started thinking of something else. He said yes, as I knew he would. I've been practicing for years to not drift away from where I am and when I do, I try to point it out to him, offer my apology. He's learning as well, especially when he's reading or playing a video game, to say, I can't give you my attention right now, but when I reach this point, I can.
So, there we sat in the snow, and I tried to explain meditation. We tried to make our minds blank and he said maybe white was blank. I began talking through a small meditation on where we were... I close my eyes, I breathe deeply, I hear the quiet and the cars and the wind in the trees, I feel the cold in my cheeks and the snow under my legs... I snuck a peek at him and his eyes were closed, his body still, head tilted up toward the sun... then he laughed and jumped up, throwing a snowball at me on his way past. I am thankful that the world is never empty, that there is space to sit and to jump, room for laughter and quiet, time for presence and joy.
- ▼ 2010 (6)