When You Don't Press "Mute"

I discovered something while meditating yesterday.

Usually when I meditate, I try to have some ambient music playing in my earbuds, my bedroom door shut, cut off from the rest of the house for however long I’ve chosen to mindfully breathe. Yesterday, circumstances demanded I do something different, and so for the first time I meditated without earbuds, open to the sounds around me.

And there were plenty of sounds. My parents were talking while watching television downstairs. The sound of wind chimes was playing from my speakers. I’d often hear the muffled sound of a door closing, or feet approaching, or the washing machine during its spin cycle.

It was at that moment that I realized the true meaning of mindfulness. It isn’t necessarily shutting off the world, with its noise and distraction. It’s more about letting it exist around you while giving yourself permission to detach from its hold on you.

My house was far from quiet at that moment, but for some reason I didn’t mind. It was as if something had just clicked in my head: all of this may as well be just as natural as if I were meditating in the middle of a forest, sitting on the grass, beneath long brooding trees and amongst the fauna that call the flora their home.

My mother’s laugh is a birdsong. The television is a gust of wind. Every place is a temple if I choose to view it as sacred.

That was probably the most productive meditative session I’ve had in a while, and I’ll definitely do it that way again sometime.

Just thought I’d pop in and share some thoughts, since it’s been a few days.

Until next time, keep breathing.
-D.