Meditation

Let’s talk about meditation — not in the woo-woo, float-away-on-a-cloud kind of way, but the real kind. The messy kind. The kind that sometimes feels like a breakthrough and other times just feels... quiet.

Here’s what I’ve learned:Meditation can help you find some calm and balance when everything feels off. It’s not about stopping your thoughts or clearing your mind like some kind of mental vacuum cleaner. That’s a myth. The truth is, thoughts still come — but you learn to notice them without getting dragged into them. I once heard someone compare thoughts to skiers coming down a mountain. You watch them slide by, maybe admire the technique, but you don’t chase them down the slope. I liked that.

For me, meditation is less about doing it “right” and more about showing up. I always sit in the same spot — facing my bedroom window — because I once heard that if you meditate in the same place regularly, the space holds the energy. I don’t know if that’s true, but it feels like I leave a bit of myself there every time I sit down. I like when the room is filled with natural light. I don’t always meditate at the same time each day, but I go back to that spot. That’s my place.

I usually start with a little gratitude list. On good days, I can think of a bunch of things. On rougher days, I struggle to find even one. And that’s okay. I also set intentions — one of them has stayed with me for months. I’m not even sure it’s what I want anymore, but I keep setting it anyway. Sometimes I think all I really want is for this chapter to end — the waiting, the flatness, the in-between.

My practice changes a lot. Some days I just sit and breathe. Other days, I have full conversations in my head — like I’m talking to my own brain. I’m not sure if that counts as “real” meditation, but it’s what happens. I’ve stopped judging it.

I’ve started noticing small things when I sit in silence — the birds outside, the wind moving through the trees, the hum of a car passing by. I don’t know if it’s changing me, but I’ve started to enjoy it. I look forward to it. Not always, but more than I used to.

Recently, I went away on a mountain holiday. One morning, I was the first one up. I made a coffee, bundled myself in a jacket and beanie, and sat outside in the dark, surrounded by snow. It was freezing and still and beautiful. I didn’t think about whether I was meditating “correctly.” I just sat. That moment made me appreciate it even more.

I don’t know if meditation has brought about any life-altering revelations yet. Maybe it never will. But it’s given me something consistent. A habit. A pause. And maybe one day — when I’m not trying so hard — I’ll get that big insight. Until then, I’ll keep sitting in my little spot, letting the skiers pass.