Not Meditation

Sometimes I just can’t make myself do anything. And then I just sit here, feeling bad about it, my inactivity, my sloth. I guess then I am actually active, because I am sitting here, and I am feeling bad, so that is two things I am doing at once. The problem is I feel guilty. There’s a badness that I associate with inactivity, as if time cost something and I have to pay for it in sweat or at least movement or at the very least, shopping.

Why cant I just be? Isn’t that meditation? Does it count as meditating if you are sitting there but not calling it meditation but merely zoning out and not looking at the tv and not thinking about anything in particular? That’s meditative, but I guess it can’t be called that unless you have your hands open on your knees facing up and maybe chanting.

I can’t even bring myself to read, which is the strangest thing because that is what I do best, read. I can read and read and read for days on end and if that is all I did I would be happiest, sincerely. I like to read, and smell my dogs farts as these two things mean I am living my mind’s ideal life, which is caring for nothing much except what my eyes are taking in like words and their meanings and being in the presence of animals who have been playing and now the swallowed air that went down in a joyful jump and bark is now coming out of their dog butts.

My dogs are farting and snoring and I can’t put a book up to my face and I can’t do anything. It’s weird, but it’s soothing to do nothing but breathe, which I guess is technically meditating however this is punctuated by looking at profiles of people I actively dislike on facebook. That is what facebook is for, or what I use it for, looking at people I don’t like but allowed to friend me anyway. So it’s not really meditating because I keep stopping to look at pictures of those I hate.

I want to eat something but I also don’t think eating is a positive activity if I am not hungry, so that’s not happening. I want to drink but it’s morning still, and there are rules I have set in stone about drinking and all things of that nature. So I am just going to stay here and sit here and I really think this is most of what my life has been, just sitting and staring, and that’s pretty good I think, considering.

6 thoughts on “Not Meditation

  1. Just don’t try so hard to meditate and think about doing stuff, that is what I do, go with the flow. P.S. those code words below are hard to read, maybe it is my bad eyesight, I don’t know.

  2. Just sitting and staring is what I’ve been doing a whole lot of lately in my depressive state. I don’t normally “not meditate” during happier times, which leads me to believe there might be something to it. I read recently about how a breakdown is just the beginning of a breakthrough…

  3. hey margaret —
    p.s could be p.m.s. — you must have loads of comic material just oozing out removed from what you’ve been writing. being away in western europe for 9 months including a trip to geneva for human rights issues for GLBT hate crimes — returning, i’m in hysterics today at how incredibly STUPID the entire RATHOLE is. thus, such repetition and being QUEER and community aid, it is tragic and hilarious how stupid so much is. thus, meditation and reading — GREAT IDEA. gimme a crack whore, and i don’t care.

    thus, this place is so gifted and blessed but i’d rather be in the other hemisphere. being queer, i am really sick of many things in this ungrateful place. and staying in a rathole only shows the ingratitude and the homophobia regardless if they’re hetero, homo, or bi. what a beautiful evening, but what an incredibly stupid production. 10 years on the road and being queer, i’d hoped that they’d be beyond “what’s up buddy?” — well, mother fucker with “don’t ask, don’t tell” wasn’t seeing your schwag wiggling in the locker room as you V-licked the wag on your girlfriend while keeping us in the closet.

    so, you must have a lot of material brewing, because this erection year is about as flaccid as the men in my life over the past decade. the news puts me to sleep — it’s like a one-way viewing platform that is like charlie brown’s teacher, mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah — hey, where’s schroder to bring back some bach.

    when i visited Thich Naht Hahn in the south of france for meditation — i saw many familiar faces and i learned that caucasians in particular and north americans overall are very uncomfortable and unused to resolution/reconciliation.

    blessings — peace be with you.

  4. I also feel guilty when I do nothing but zone out. Usually I just can’t make up my mind about what I want to do so I just do nothing, or I just surf porn, which is the same as doing nothing. Can’t you block people from friending you? It is creepy for people you hate to be able to friend you. I friended you and now I feel creepy. Of course my profile doesn’t say squat, not even enough there to form an opinion, unless it’s ‘can’t this moron come up with anything even remotely interesting for his profile?’ And my photo? Ha! I can come up with much worse things than any hater could possibly imagine when it comes to my image. Still, it bothers me that people lurk in the shadows of the internet and form judgements. Of course, I do it too! But I stop, you know, like almost immediately. I don’t lurk with intent to smirk. Not me! I could easily imagine you just being a bump on a log, to use an overused Midwestern expression. That was one of your best posts. I loved it!

  5. Until I got a whole bunch of EMDR to clear out my PTSD/trauma, I thought everyone else sat there staring all the time trying to force themselves to do something. Then after I got the EMDR, that thing–sitting there, zoning out, feeling really guilty and eventually catapulting myself sort of compulsively into activity that I HAD to do or even WANTED to do but still had to force myself to do–that whole thing went away.

    I had NO IDEA until after 2 years of EMDR that there was another way to be. All these normal people without a ton of trauma were just kind of doing things without having to force themselves like a catapult off the couch.

    And your description of that sort of antsy, scritchy, urge to eat or drink (or smoke a cigarette!) that is so familiar to me from that time.

    Now I sort of–if I want to sit there and stare I don’t have the guilt I guess. But also I don’t want to sit and stare much anymore. It’s like naturally kind of gone. But I rest more and sleep more and am less workaholic, which took a long time.

    Reading and a quiet life this is a lot better than endless email and workaholic blah blah.

    Love you Margaret!

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