Making Meditation a Way of Life (Kinda)
But If I let you believe that my story ended here in an undisputed victory, I'd be lying. For about two weeks, all of the pieces did seem to fall in place. I was a (smug) meditating machine. Then, during a particularly stressful week (one that, in my defense, involved packing up my apartment of four years and moving while eight months pregnant), I missed a day. And then I missed another day. And a third day. By the time I got back to my practice, it took some time to regain my momentum. That itchiness in my brain started to reemerge, and the ease I'd started to feel had lessened.
But as tempted as I was to call it quits, I tried not to let myself become deterred, taking some of Goldberg's wisdom to heart. "The idea is not to bring expectations. It's just to go with it and not judge yourself," she told me.
So as bummed as I was to see my beautiful streak disappear, I forced myself to think about how my practice -- no matter how imperfect it had become -- was (I hoped) helping me achieve my greater intention. Even if I had to limp over the finish line, I would get there.
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