I just finished a five minute meditation session immediately followed by another ten minutes. I feel calm. Soothed. When you sit, eyes closed, focused only on breathing and the sensations of your body, you begin to notice a few things. First, that breathing feels good. Really good. Once the blood becomes sufficiently oxygenated relaxation ensues; the muscles soften, so do the joints. You begin to feel pleasantly light-headed. Sometimes you'll spontaneously smile. Other times a quick giggle or a very vocal breath escapes your lips. After an indeterminate amount of time your mind will jerk, reflexively. It goes to what it can most easily latch onto; how long has it been? Am I almost done? I wonder how much time is left. Then the inner monologue in which you gently guide yourself away from your thoughts and back to your breath - which in itself becomes a commanding thought since you're now intending to exert control - begins. Once you realize this you let go of the intention and settle contentedly on just being. Soon the mind stills again. In this deeper calm sounds seem louder. A passing bus outside displaces the air and evokes something big, fast and powerful. The muffled laughter and conversation seeping through the thin apartment walls seem at once invasive but also uncurious, calmly apathetic. Your heartbeat surfaces up into your ears. The couch creaks. Suddenly you feel warmer. You pay attention to the sound of your breath as a part of you begins to realize the mind is using the body as a distraction. Release it. Your breath is fuller now. It pulls air in deep. As you exhale your mouth falls open and the warm, moist air rumbles softly over your tongue. After some number of breaths here your mouth begins to feel dryer, so you move your tongue around; to the roof of your mouth and back down, side to side. It dislodges a secret reservoir of warm saliva which bathes your tongue in a hydrating wash of liquid. This is pleasant. Suddenly your equilibrium goes and you feel intoxicatingly off-balance. You smile and breathe. And breathe. Out and in. In and out. Slower. Feel it in your stomach. Your chest. Your ribs widen to accommodate your full lungs. And now, here, you sense something. Something other than what you've been sensing so far. Something secret. With your breath and movements, your entire being seems to become a single, slowly beating heart. But you don't feel alone. It seems you are inside an ocean of hearts. You notice a swelling excitement but you try not to indulge it and, it passes. The secret moves closer. You try not to want because you know desiring it will surely dissolve it. You wait, coyly, trying lazily not to try to not be coy. Breathe. Something is there.
Then, the timer goes off.
