Fair Weather Meditator

By Aman Grover

As a fair-weather meditator, Coronavirus has taken me inwards – mind, soul and home.

Maybe I’ve always been more comfortable in chaos
I’m a dabbler you see, built my home on the fence
A relationship with meditation, cloudy and blanketed
In the past it’s been tense
Breathing in, exhale out, where is this leading me?
Felt the need for results, an outcome, some tangible sense
That productivity is the key to an everlasting recipe
Shouldn’t I feel something
Right about now?
Wave of expectation, a crescendo of calm, roaring against the shores
Of my denial
Submerging my tingling nerves, in a spiritual revolution
That unlocks all the doors
Couldn’t these 12 minutes or so,
Be spent on real-life skills?

The realisation came,
That the breath is always there, not something to be picked apart
When I sit on the creaky corner cushioned chair
And inflect and ponder and ruminate
Simply offering me, a chance to brush my hair aside,
Pick up the cloth and wipe clean the slate
Of my messy day, full of lofty highs and misjudged lows
To sit alongside, my niggling discomfort
Until it becomes the nervous energy
To harness and mould
A clay pot of hope to put on the mantle for show

Only when I committed, made it a stable root
In this fluid identity, when I place my head
Tree in the wind, grounded yet blissfully swaying
To the sound of my brain putting in the reps
Come hail, sleet or snow, little did I know
That when mindfulness intertwined with my day-to-day DNA
Sunshine would follow me on this humble path I must go,
To and fro, forgo
The excuses, I’m too busy, it’s getting late
Tomorrow, tired, tested and turned
Feel the sensation of my drowsy feet on the ground
Hear the air slice through the hidden fruit of my potential
Seeds disseminating into the yearning soil of my labour
May I feel at peace
When chaos reigned supreme.

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