Commit2Sit: meditation challenge

Last year, I bought the book Real Happiness by meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg to understand more about the power of meditation and to sit longer and more often. After reading this book once, I have gone back to it over and over, re-reading and highlighting passages that I want to remember and share with others.

Recently, I signed up for The Real Happiness Challenge, a 28-day exploration of the tools of meditation led by Salzberg, with a goal to deepen my practice, sit with a like-minded virtual community, and share my experience.

When the mind is at ease, according to Salzberg, our hearts are open and calm and we can more naturally concentrate. Often I commit to sit and then I am bombarded with sounds, images and questions, threatening to overthrow my practice:

  • The dog is whining: What does she want?
  • What will happen to Midge in the next episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel? (don’t tell me, I’m working on season 3)
  • I really don’t want to make dinner tonight
  • I forgot to call my parents
  • That speech isn’t going to write itself

The answer is to begin again. 

Everybody’s mind is out of control. If that were not the case, we wouldn’t need meditation. The key to meditation is to start over again and again. The next time I sit, I will accept distractions as impermanent buzzing creatures that don’t need my attention right now and simply begin again.

This is my best work today. Thanks for reading. If you like this post, please feel free to share it with your friends. Follow me on: Instagram (@kristinebruneau).

This is the end and the beginning

the endThis the end of my Mommy Musings and the beginning of elements of mindfulness.  When something ends, something new emerges.

For me, this has been a long time coming. A new chapter in my life and a blank space to create stories. This is an opportunity for me to rediscover myself and share my art with the world, even if no one cares. Moment by moment and step by step, Raw and unwieldy, I will navigate this new road with all its curves, hills, and potholes. I can’t think of a better way to begin 2020 and finally breathe again.

What you do for yourself, any gesture of honesty and clear seeing toward yourself, will affect how you experience your world. What you do for yourself, you’re doing for others, and what you do for others, you’re doing for yourself. – Pema Chödrön

I can’t wait to get started, but I’m also experimenting with this web site and story creation. I know enough to be dangerous about blogging and even less about building beautiful sites. Things may look different from time to time in this space until I figure how things work and get everything to play nicely, the way I want it.

If you are looking for my book, start here.

If you are looking for a post, try the search function or look here.

elementsofmindfulness.com

 

Feeling ignored by my kid

Feeling ignored
Have you ever felt ignored by your kid?
Yeah. Me, too.

Players began to cluster like grapes around blue resin tables in the cafeteria of the indoor multi-sport arena.

The air was thick with the smell of rubber and rotten corn chips beneath the blaring institutional lights on a cold winter afternoon.

My son leaned into his soccer teammates, talking texting, scrolling, and tapping like they do when they get into their little sewing circle. I hesitated, then stood up from my seat and took a step towards him. James sensed my movement and looked at me with horror. He shook his head no and waved his hand.

Clearly, I would not be welcomed with open arms to his tribe.

I averted my eyes and sank into the stiff chair, feeling ignored, lonely, and sad. I saw other parents sitting with their teenagers. Why can’t I sit with my kid? Was he embarrassed by me? I didn’t have to come and watch, you know.

I wanted to scream at the injustice, and then thought better of it. I came with a sore throat, body aches and throbbing head. And now my ego was bruised.

I know I shouldn’t take it personally and make crazy assumptions, but all I wanted was to go home, curl up on the couch and cry.

I could leave James behind because he drove himself to the tournament, having passed his driver’s test only days earlier. With each passing moment, his independence and confidence grows, while I mourn the loss of his childhood.

This progression towards adulthood is supposed to happen, I tell myself. It will be okay. He is self-reliant, but still needs my love, guidance and support. He just doesn’t need it all at once, right this minute.

And so I take a deep breath, exhale, brush away a tear and wait until the next game begins.

What do you think? This is my best work today. Thanks for reading. If you like this post, please feel free to share it with your friends. Follow me on: Facebook, Instagram (@kristinebruneau), or Pinterest.