Tough love might help me meditate
a response to yesterday
I hate the idea of meditation. Not certain why.
I just hate it.
I won’t do it.
There’s something all encompassing in how the people I respect agree about mediations’ importance and impact that the deviant little prick that I am refuses, full stop, to engage in a meditation practice.
Nor would I ever waste time with a client engaging in a calming meditation that they bring into the world.
I’ve done this. I was desperate. It didn’t help that much other than to fill part of the hour. This therapeutic relationship we had was not a long one.
There’s something about mediation that makes me balk. I still associate the act with a certain type of person I met in University in the early 1990’s: Round glasses, colourful Himalayan hats hiding dirty blonde hair, djembes, and of course, patchouli. I think it was patchouli. Either that or it was vapid arrogance. I’m not sure. Either way, cynical Jim had little time for those guys.
But am I still cynical Jim?
A little bit. Yeah.
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