No, I’m not in Waikiki, I’m referring to my spanking new meditation practice that’s a vacation all in itself, just without leaving the house.
For ten minutes twice a day, beginning and end, I shut down my mind leaving a mental note…gone fishin’.
It’s weird at first, sitting still, the go-go girl that I am, but after getting the hang of it, I now could easily be an art installation.
By the way, there are no right nor wrong ways to meditate. You don’t need to be sitting on a pillow in a lion cloth in the Lotus position, wooing leg cramps muttering OM till your lips go numb.
A meditational myth if there ever was one.
I sit up in bed with a pillow propped against the wall, my legs out, hands at my side in what I call, Rita Hayworth pose.
No candles or incense, no CD of waves waving in the background bought on Amazon with free shipping while trying to channel Gandhi who I’ll bet too, meditated in his pajamas.
Oh come on, that Speedo he wore was to make a point, but home at the ashram, you can bet Mahatma was comfy.
Does one feel better after a good 10 minute dose of silence? Yes, and sometimes, it even goes longer, like 15 or 20 because, once those chattering monkeys who keep you up at night get the hint, when those baby blues flutter back open, you find yourself, a new girl.
So to speak.