This morning I woke up at 4.30 AM. Since I was up anyway I thought that I could as well spend the next hour sitting on a meditation cushion in the cold, dark living room staring at the back of my eyelids. I did exactly that: 60 delightful minutes of observing my mind spitting out thoughts uncontrollably, 60 minutes without any peace at all. I honestly tried to focus on my breath/body but all my efforts were fruitless. So I just sat there letting my thoughts go one after another. And yet – I still find it worthwhile. I have nothing else to say about the sitting.
I thought about being a meditator and a family man. I’ve come to a conclusion that being a parent puts me in a seriously advantageous position as a meditator.
- Not-Self. Caring for kids is an exercise in Selflessness. It weakens my Ego. (My self-image and self-respect also suffer from time to time, but hey, you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.)
- Oneness. I experience it when I realise that happiness of my kids fills me with joy. The same applies to sadness.
- Mindfulness. Each day I’m presented with numerous opportunities to practice mindfulness, like playing My Little Pony figures with my daughter, which I honestly find painfully boring.
- Dukkha. The horror of seeing my daughter walking in my direction with Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie in her hands.
- Progress gauge. Kids are the most reliable and accurate gauge of my meditation progress. (The ultimate test: my daughter jumping on my stomach while I’m napping.)
- Interdependence. When I try to clean the toys after my kids I can’t help but notice that everything is indeed interconnected and interdependent.
- Emptiness. When I think about my social life.