Ten Days of Meditation

I actually think talking about one’s own experience’s with meditation, particularly without being asked, is incredibly pretentious and narcissistic, and as discussed previously ad nauseam this blog is a constant battle between not wishing to come across as embodying those two qualities and them both being inherent in having to write a blog post every day. Alas, I have long since run out of things to talk about that lack pretense and are not conduits for me to take myself unnecessarily seriously.

Nevertheless, here we are, and according to the nifty Insight Timer app on my iPhone, today marked the tenth consecutive day for which I’ve meditated for ten minutes. I’ve yet to attain enlightenment and subsequently feel misled by the torrent of hipster, New Age marketing peddled by various meditation apps who make big promises. I think the only meaningful thing I’ve learned about myself in the process is that my posture is even worse than I’d previously imagined, and by the time I’m forty it is unlikely I will still possess a fully functional spine. My body is in fact so accustomed to sitting slouched in my desk chair that my glutes kinda pull after sitting upright and cross-legged for a while, which is new and upsetting. Each ten minute sit is a cacophany of thoughts, absolute conscious pandemonium, and I’ve not yet made any progress with quieting it.

It’s nice though, to sit, to do nothing, to breath. I quite like the feeling afterwards, a brief oasis of calm in the day. And obviously the feeling of smug superiority over the unenlightened fools who don’t meditate is nice also.