So I’m starting my second novel and I have to do a little research. On meditating. Because the main character in my story (or protagonist, in writer’s jargon) has decided she needs to find a way to relax and gain some inner peace.
I’ve never tried meditating before, but it sounds interesting. To help my research, I went to the library, checked out the book Getting in the Gap by Wayne Dyer (which also comes with a CD, thank goodness – trying to read about meditating and simultaneously practicing it is not easy), and decided to try it for myself.
Have you ever tried meditating with two little boys in the other room (who are supposed to be watching The Backyardigans)? Yeah, I bet you can just imagine. It went something like this:
I sit yoga-style (actually it’s called criss-cross applesauce in our house) on the office floor with my iPod plugged into my ears. Deep breath, hands on knees, palm up, fingers and thumbs slightly touching. A calm voice speaks in my ear about breathing and “ahhhh-ing” as Dyer suggests (I thought it was ommm-ing? Who knew.)
Yes, it’s quite peaceful here. Very relaxing. This is nice.
Then some chubby little fingers pull an ear bud from my head and my Little Man beams at me with a wicked grin. “What are you listening to, mommy?” he demands. “Lemme hear!” He shoves the bud in his ear, then scowls. “Where’s the music?”
I tell him there’s no music, so he drops the bud and runs back to his cartoon. I try again. Ear bud in place, “ahhh-ing” in my ear, I try to return to that peaceful place of quiet meditation.
“Mommy, can I have a snack?” My Big Boy is standing in front of me with a huge smile. “Can I listen to your music?” He grabs an ear bud and shoves it in his ear, then frowns like his little brother did.
“This isn’t music,” I repeat, then pause my iPod and get my ear bud back. We go to the kitchen, get snacks for both boys, I settle them in front of Backyardigans again (which is half over already – why don’t they make those shows longer!?), and race back to my place on the office floor.
Criss-cross applesauce, iPod on, fingers and thumbs touching, ommm-ing (or rather, aahhhh-ing), and… it takes a few minutes, but… yes. The peace returns, my breathing is steady, my head clears. But only for a moment.
“Mommmmy!” wails my little one, tears streaming, bowl of crackers clutched in hand, favorite blanket draped over his shoulders. “I spilled my juice!” And the sobbing continues.
I stare at him, wondering how loud I’d have to turn up the sound on my iPod to drown out his cries. I’m not sure the volume goes that high. So I pull the buds from my ears, squint at the howl that is coming from my son, and fall backward onto the office floor. Criss-cross applesauce falls apart, my ahhhh-ing out the door… and my Little Man sits on my stomach and giggles with delight.
I guess my research is on hold until naptime.