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I was sitting outside on the third day of our vacation in the Bahamas.
It wasn’t a remarkable meditation.
My mind wandered.
I kept adjusting my posture.
I even left my eyes open.
Nothing special happened.
Then, out of nowhere, a simple sentence appeared in my mind:
It doesn’t do anything.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
But because something about those words felt completely true.
Meditation doesn’t stop me from getting sick.
It doesn’t protect the people I love.
It doesn’t spare me heartbreak.
It doesn’t let me hold on to a single moment.
Whether I meditate or not, life continues exactly as life does.
One day, I’ll die.
And so will everyone I love.
Seeing that didn’t leave me feeling hopeless.
It left me feeling strangely joyful.
Not because meditation had given me anything.
But because I stopped asking meditation to save me from being human.
I wasn’t sitting to become calmer.
Or wiser.
Or more spiritual.
I was simply sitting.
And there was a quiet joy in that.
Not the joy of getting somewhere.
The joy of no longer needing to.
Tomorrow I’ll sit again.
Not because meditation works.
Not because I’m trying to become a better version of myself.
I’ll sit because, every now and then, I remember there’s nothing to gain, nowhere else to get to, and no bargain to make with life.
Sometimes, just sitting is enough.
~
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