I was formally introduced to meditation in my early twenties. My karate teacher had invited a meditation instructor to come teach us how.
I knew nothing about this woman but I remember judging her. What was she doing waltzing into a feminist karate studio wearing a skirt and heels? What could a woman who intentionally “hobbled” herself for fashion…to look good for men, have to teach me about anything?
Heels. Please. Can’t even run in them. How smart is that? This was my thought process.
We sat on chairs and she talked about quieting the mind. She played music and instructed us to focus on the breath.
And I did.
And for some reason this meditation thing was easy for me. Unbeknownst to me, I’d been doing it all my life. Lying on my bed as a child, looking out the window at the leaves on the trees until I felt it. The disappearance of the little self. The merging with All that Is. Meditation was familiar.
For a long time I tried to put intentions to my meditations. I would want to be a better writer. A better mother. A better person. Help me be better. Striving, striving. Take away my not good enough-ness. Please.
Take away my arrogance.
Take away my longing.
Take away my temper.
Take away my unlovable-ness.
But lately something else is happening. I’ve just been asking God to be with me. I abide in You, and You abide in me. Let’s just breathe together. Breathe me God. Just for the joy of connecting.
Just let me sink, deeper and deeper into You. Let the little me disappear until all my molecules are merging with All that Is. Just like when I was a child. Let me be in this a while.
Let me float here. Out of this body. Out of time and space. Nowhere. Everywhere. Buoyant.
That first meditation teacher…the one in the heels, generously gave us each a free cassette tape to take with us. I still have it.
I have no idea who she was, but I’m thankful for her.
And here’s the thing….I’m never gonna wear heels. The difference after all these years is, I no longer judge those who do.