I have a confession.
Until recently, I considered meditation to be in the same basket as mung beans and hemp socks – worthy and noble but not something I was ever likely to get excited about.
In my mind, meditation was the kind of thing my kooky, kaftan wearing Aunt would do. Just after she’d finished planting her garlic bulbs by the light of the full moon.
Sure – I’d read that people who meditated lived longer. And had lower blood pressure. And were nicer to their kids. But I was also pretty sure that giving up wine would have a similar effect and I hadn’t cracked that one either.
Besides, I didn’t have time to meditate. I had dragons to slay and mountains to climb.
Then I had kids (oh so many kids) and my already busy life went into overdrive. I would have laughed (a little hysterically) if anyone had suggested I take 10 minutes a day to “centre myself”.
Every so often though, listening to the radio or walking past an open café door, I’d hear that beautiful Simon and Garfunkel song, “Feelin’ Groovy”.
You know the one…
“Slow down – you move too fast. You gotta make this moment last……”
And I’d dismiss it instantly.