I have a confession.
Until recently, I considered meditation to be in the same basket as mung beans and hemp socks – worthy and noble but not something I was ever likely to get excited about.
In my mind, meditation was the kind of thing my kooky, kaftan wearing Aunt would do. Just after she’d finished planting her garlic bulbs by the light of the full moon.
Sure – I’d read that people who meditated lived longer. And had lower blood pressure. And were nicer to their kids. But I was also pretty sure that giving up wine would have a similar effect and I hadn’t cracked that one either.
Besides, I didn’t have time to meditate. I had dragons to slay and mountains to climb.
Then I had kids (oh so many kids) and my already busy life went into overdrive. I would have laughed (a little hysterically) if anyone had suggested I take 10 minutes a day to “centre myself”.
Every so often though, listening to the radio or walking past an open café door, I’d hear that beautiful Simon and Garfunkel song, “Feelin’ Groovy”.
You know the one…
“Slow down – you move too fast. You gotta make this moment last……”
And I’d dismiss it instantly.
I’d walk faster or flick over to Radio National and listen to something important.
I didn’t have time to slow down. I had to move fast. I had lunches to make. And reports to write. And bills to pay.
Far better not to stop.
With a bit of effort, I could even ignore the exhausting loop of thoughts bouncing around in my head.
For a while.
Turns out that Buddhists have a name for a mind like mine that jumps from one thought to the next like a monkey jumps from tree to tree. They call it “Monkey Mind”. The monkey mind is not happy to live in the present moment but is constantly occupied with following every thought that passes through.
Me, I’m clearly not as evolved as your average Buddhist and I prefer to think of my mind as a Labrador puppy. Anyone who has ever lived with a Labrador puppy (or seen Marley and Me) knows that the very last thing you should do with a Labrador puppy is ignore it.