Monday. Morning. Meditation.

Photo by Haley Powers on Unsplash

Meditation.
Morning.
Monday.

Open.
Wide.
Centered.

Tinnitus.
My right ear.
Drawing my attention.
In the quietude.

What do I need to hear?
Where am I not listening?

Meditation moves to mantra.
"I listen.
I hear what needs to be heard.
I listen deeply, with clarity."

Meditation.
Mind. 
Me.

I offer myself focus.
Or is this a distraction?
A need to keep the monkey mind busy?
No matter.

The ringing in the right.
The pulsating tiredness.
The dullness of eyelids.
Closed.

Meditation.
Meeting.
Moments.

My body breathing itself.
Easeful and present.
Barely discernible.
I want to stay here.
Allow for the stillness.
The beauty of being.

Meditation.
Meditation.
Meditation.

I've carved out an hour of permission.
A half hour of meditation.
A half hour for writing.
Interestingly, I find the writing the harder of the two today.
I want to return.

Meditation.
Mindfulness.
Mesmerizing.

A practice of freedom.
Yet with the sweetness of discipline.
Encompassing it all.
My body continues to breathe itself.
My spine enjoys its erectness.
Each pause.
I close my eyes to fall back into the silence.

Meditation.
Meaning.
Mysticism.

The pause.
The breath.
The listening despite the tinnitus.

What wants to be written?
What are the exact words?

I still the channel.
To feel.
To listen.
To understand.
Clarify and write.

Monday.
Morning.
Meditation.

Aligning the cosmos with my soul.
And making room for a few written words.

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