Which Chakra is Jet Ski?
I start the day by sitting in an epsom salts bath sipping my coffee. I have a hemorrhoid the size of a jet ski and I'm supposed to do this bath thing throughout the day for 15 minutes at a time. Like I have 15-minute time parcels lying around in which I can do nothing. Right. So I multi-task by having my coffee at the same time.
Is this too much information? It might be too much. Okay, forget it. I'm just having coffee in the bath. There. Better?
I am stressed. In fact, I have planned to meditate all day to see if I can calm down. I know, I could pull a short meditation in the tub here. I could draw my attention down to my jet ski and travel up through my inner self, rolling and surfing on all of my thoughts like a boss, pissing off the other notions and sensibilities on the way like that jerk at the cottage. I choose, instead, to enjoy my coffee.
It is done.
Outside, the snow is belting its way down to the sound in a hurry, battling wind that often drives it sideways. It's a terrible day to travel, so I'm not tempted to venture out. I light the candle on my coffee table and get ready to sort out my chakras.
Yes, I said, chakras.
There are seven chakras, like little energy glove compartments, that run up the midline of the human body. They start at the jet ski: Root, solar plexus, heart, throat, third eye, and crown. I know some people who must have fantastic chakras because they are mighty. Others, not so much since having a nap is reason enough for them to have a parade.
Me? Feels like my chakras are full of gum, energy bar wrappers, an old lighter, one glove, and a few cassette tapes from the 80's; they need attention.
Do I really believe in chakras?
There you are. I see you, racing to put on your Neil deGrasse Tyson t-shirts. I knew you would be judging. I used to believe in Oreo's until they became lesser-Oreo's. I guess I'm believing in chakras while I still can, you know, before some company like Nestle gets a hold of them, alright?
There is room in this dark matter for all of us. Indulge me this.
I go onto Youtube and choose tunes specific to each chakra, curious to see how I feel by the end of the day. I arrange myself on the couch and make sure there is nothing that could become annoying, like the pillow behind my back being slightly off-centred, the candle-wick needs trimming, or someone has left the jet ski running. I start with my root chakra and we're off.
I love this. After the first few minutes of fidgeting, I go deep and stay there except for short sorties up to check on the candle and the roiling apocalypse outside. This is wonderful.
I have spoken with friends who have difficulty with meditation; people who could absolutely use some stillness in their lives, and I feel bad for them because this is amazing. I'm actually annoyed throughout the day when I feel hungry or that I have this bladder that can't seem to wait just five more hours! I grab snacks; a chicken leg, but I'm intentional and aware, so I wonder about the chicken. You might laugh at this, but later you will grok that this might be part of our disconnect.
This is my gift to you.
Through six hours, I meditate on all of the chakras except the heart, because I've been working on that one for the past decade already. I enjoy each effort and am surprised by my subconscious dinger that goes off, alerting me to the approaching end of each session.
I don't like the endings. They make me anxious and irritated. I would much rather stay down deep, calm and focused. I like the vibration and how easy it is to breathe.
I get why people love this so much. But it didn't really solve anything for me, because, unless you're a monk, you can't meditate all day. You have to come back to reality, and it is reality that I have a hard time with. Now the contrast bothers me. If I could, in the deepness of meditation, pixelate down into nothing but thought, I would be relieved.
I wouldn't have to tend to this body, or these ridonculous emotions and desires. I wouldn't be so disappointed. But, I guess I might not be delighted either. Of course, there would be no jet ski...