—
I sit cross-legged on the couch, earbuds in place, and take a sip of coffee before resting in my posture and taking a deep breath.
For the longest time, I’d last maybe five minutes before the night watchman in my mind would leave his post and blow out the lantern.
I’d awaken, startled, not knowing how much time had gone by since losing consciousness. Sometimes, I’d actually wake myself snoring.
The whole ‘watch for thoughts to float by and let them go’ is a whole heck of a lot like counting sheep—something I did as a child to help me sleep (which was very effective).
I’ve since changed it up. Now, instead of closing my eyes and falling asleep, I close my eyes and wake up.
This short period of time is work.
Instead of passively sitting on my couch and floating, as soon as my eyelids close, I mentally hop under the hood of my consciousness to soup that bad boy up.
I feel the Presence of my awareness. And I sit with it as it expands. And expands. And grows from my little perch on the sofa out the window, onto the street, and into my neighborhood before rocketing off in all directions to the ends of the universe.
I. Am.
I add intensity to this Presence. I can feel it in my toes.
This is the body shop of my consciousness. Unlike my car, instead of needing an alignment shift every few months, my soul could use one on the daily.
Ooh. Yep. I can feel I’m out of whack. When I think of thing X or situation Y, I can tell things just don’t line up. The engine of my soul is powering me in one direction, but the wheels are lined up toward the guardrail.
Fully aligned is what I’m after. This way, I can floor this beast knowing I have everything I need to fling myself straight down the highway with no interference or drag.
Once aligned, I can take a quick look at those thoughts floating by. However, instead of indifferently letting them pass, I’m playing the bouncer now. Any thought that seems drunk, obnoxious, rude, or outright aggressive—I’ll grab that punk by the collar and toss him out on the street.
As soon as his ass hits the sidewalk, I’m replacing it with a new thought. One that swims well with the others. One that’s cleaned up and attractive so as to bring other like-minded, well-dressed, and higher tipping thoughts in.
I can go on. Point is, these kinds of mental acrobatics are not for the meek. It’s meditation infused with imagination. I’m creating here. Not just sitting.
Wait. How many sheep is that again?
—
This post was originally published on medium.com, and is republished here with the author’s permission.
—
◊♦◊
What’s your take on what you just read? Comment below or write a response and submit to us your own point of view at the red box, below, which links to our submissions portal.
◊♦◊
Are you a first-time contributor to The Good Men Project? Submit here:
◊♦◊
Have you contributed before and have a Submittable account? Use our Quick Submit link here:
◊♦◊
Do you have previously published work that you would like to syndicate on The Good Men Project? Click here:
◊♦◊
Got Writer’s Block?
Sign up for our Writing Prompts email to receive writing inspiration in your inbox twice per week.
♦◊♦
We are a participatory media company. Join us.
Participate with the rest of the world, with the things you write and the things you say, and help co-create the world you want to live in.
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project, please join us as a Premium Member, today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
A $50 annual membership gives you an all-access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class, and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group, and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.