My Practice

I sit day after day facing the wall. Thirty minutes pass on the clock while I sit quietly on my cushion. I try to be completely still, but sometimes I move. I try to let my thoughts come and go, but now and then, I notice myself following one. Some days I’m ready to take my seat, other days I could go to bed. Still I sit.

I sit with all my frustration, confusion, and joy. I am not a mountain standing against the waves. I am not the ocean washing on the mountain. I am both. I am neither. I return to my breath.

My practice helps me be mindful when meeting things so that I can aware of my own habit patterns. If I notice something or someone suffering, it is only because I have suffered before myself. This helps me to be compassionate.