Smart meditation

I have recently experienced the benefits of guided meditation. My smartphone’s appstore offers a wide range of meditation apps to choose from.

I settle down on my bed, lying on my back, consciously switching off the sounds around me, and retreating into the deeper recesses of my mind, my ears capturing the instructions from the phone. I breathe in, and let out my breath.

                                  Courtesy –
I tense my body, breathe in, relax and breathe out. I follow all the instructions and have started feeling really good.

The voice says, “Let go…and relax.”

I relax a bit too much; by stretching my arms more than they should.

 I feel it before I hear it. My outsretched left arm has sent my smartphone flying through the railings at the head of my bed and down to the floor below.

Where there were no thoughts, dozens of thoughts come invading. 

” My phone, it is new, has the screen cracked? ”

The guided voice resumes. “Take a deep breath.”

 I try to relax my mind, which is repeatedly conjuring up images of a shattered screen.

I am tempted to jump down and look under the cot. My mind reasons, “If the screen is already shattered, there’s nothing to be done. So why not complete the meditation, given the fact that my guide seems to be doing his job.”

I settle down to continue this two-level meditation. I manage to finish it.

After relaxing for a few minutes, I allow my body to leap out of the bed and crawl under it.

My phone lies out of reach. I bring a stick to gently draw it towards me. I pray and hope for the best.

My phone comes out intact. I breathe out in relief and relax truly!


A walk on the Scottish moors

We are in a small coastal town in the Scottish highlands. It is a warm and pleasant day. The sun is out on a blue sky, and the waves are gentle as they approach the shoreline. Small families are scattered on the beach, young kids with their spades and buckets, trying to build sand castles; busily carrying water back and forth.

Behind us, the moorlands stretch as far as the eye can see. We set off on a long walk. There is a roughly formed path-of-sorts. We set off, a few adults and a few children.

The beauty is simply breathtaking. There is blissful, golden silence; a silence so profound that one can actually feel the peace within.

There are merry little bunnies hopping about and a few birds, who are hidden but whose sweet music brings such joy to the listener.

Image copyrighted to Simple Moments of Life

Dandelion wands beckon to the kids. We walk up one hillock, come down and then climb another. Cheerful little silvery mountain streams give us company, as they make a gentle gurgling sound against the rocks.
The grass is green and lush. Gorse bushes abound, their yellow flowers lighting up the landscape. Then again, there are these absolutely tiny flowers in mauve and white, making one marvel at the sheer beauty of it all.

Not a word escapes our lips. For once, we are so overwhelmed that even the kids have nothing to say.

The breeze whips around us, perfectly gentle and cooling. When we reach the point where we want to turn back, we sit down to soak it all in.

We close our eyes, and it feels like we are in deep meditation. So much calm and peace. The real world drops away; for this moment nothing but ‘this exists’, this beautiful silence.

I can well imagine Wordsworth penning the lines of his famous poem The Solitary Reaper, after walking through these highlands.

We head back trying to carry the silence and the peace with us. 

The calm and the storm !

The forties have rolled around, and my husband and I are increasingly conscious about our health and its maintenance.

From cardio to healthy eating, and ‘working out’ the steps walked, and our heart rates and all kinds of statistics, we have all the gadgets to track our progress, and to gently boost our egos.

And no, we have not forgotten the ‘taming of our minds’ or our inner well being. We are working on these too!

However, this post is not about all this. This post is about why husbands should not meditate in the mornings.

So, a few days ago, my husband learnt a new technique of meditation.  He loved what it did for him during the training, and weekend practice sessions.

And on a crazy Monday morning, when the house was torn in two, and I buzzed from room to room, cooking, waking kids up and finding lost papers and socks, my sprint from the kitchen to the master bedroom came to a sudden halt – for, in the middle of the room, resting on the floor in a lotus pose, was hubby dear, breathing deep and inhaling peace and calm and feeding them to his every pore. He was oblivious to the world and needless to say, my presence.


   Courtesy –

I crept behind him to open the wardrobe. It let out a mild creaking sound. I closed it and rushed out. My breath  came out in short bursts as my annoyance bubbled. Here I was rushing like a whirlwind and….

At the breakfast table, I hinted to my husband to take his meditative efforts to the guest room, so that he would not be in my way. He complied.

The next morning, as the whirlwind swept me from chore to chore, I realized that I needed some handtowels that I had stored in the guest room.

I gatecrashed the meditation. I slunk behind the calm, and opened the drawer to take the towels. I made various thudding and scraping sounds as I opened and closed the drawers..

I looked at my husband. He did not show any signs of having heard me.

At breakfast, I asked him if he could move to the living room, facing the balcony.

He tried that too…but the phone rang, the door bell rang, and the kitchen sounds probably got to him.

Haven’t seen him meditate in a while. Hmmm.