by KATHY WILSON
Until recently, I didn’t feel like I had any business meditating.
I’d look at the images in the magazine articles with titles like “everyone can meditate” and “ Glow from the Inside”, sigh and go and have another glass of wine.
Without fail, any image that accompanies an article about meditation is calm and serene.
An extremely beautiful (usually) woman with perfectly manicured eyebrows (what’s with that?) sits in lotus position in organic yoga gear. She is almost always by the beach or at the very least somewhere outdoorsy and beautiful.
You can tell just by looking at her that this woman isn’t trying to remember what she has done with her daughter’s special barbie hair clip. Or whether she remembered to buy sour cream to go with the tacos.
Way too perfect
My life in no way resembles those images. Not even close.
I live 5 kms from Brisbane City and share a small house and yard with my husband, 3 children, one enormous dog and anywhere between 5 and 9 chooks. My eyebrows are rarely perfectly manicured and my meditation outfit looks quite a lot like my pyjamas. Yeah okay it is my pyjamas….
There was something about meditation, though that kept calling to me and periodically, I’d try again.
I was always especially inspired when we were on holidays at the beach.
The mixture of salt air and wind that made me feel like it was possible to quiet my mind and truly be in the moment.
I would wrap a summer scarf nonchalantly around my neck, wear my whitest singlet top and struggle to the top of a sand dune.
From a certain angle I was pretty sure the look was right. I’d breathe, calm my mind…and it was lovely.
But not really sustainable.
Pretty soon, I’d get hit in the head by one of my sons’ mis-kicked footballs and life would resume its normal chaotic path.