How to Meditate: How Meditation Changed My Life
Oceanfront mansion out of the question, I decided I'd go to yoga classes. When they were over, I always wished that the end-of-class Savasana lasted longer—there's nothing better than lying there basking in the post-yoga glow of good vibes and relaxation, where thoughts seemed clearer, more compassionate and alive with divine intent behind them. I wanted more of that, so I gave meditation a try.
I had tried to meditate once before, with my best friend Mary when I was 13. She was instructing me on how to deal with the drama of junior-high mean girls. She was, apparently, a much more mature and enlightened teen than I. As we sat there and she told me to focus on the soft glow of the candle, I was more "Oh my God I'm going to laugh" than "Om," and pretty soon we were both rolling around on the floor, holding our stomachs in a fit of giggles.
Now, though, as a grown woman, I would not laugh. I would meditate peacefully. I set the scene for enlightenment by dimming the lights, making a chair out of pillows on the floor, and lighting a lavender candle. I sat down clutching my amethyst crystal, closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths and waited for peace, but my brain had other plans.
Churros. Yum. Fried dough swathed in sugar. Whoever thought of those is a genius. I wish I had a churro right now. I would give anything for a churro. At a baseball game. Baseball games are so much fun. I should go to one soon. Take me out to the ballgame, take me out with the crowd... Meditate, Carla. I should put this amethyst near my heart, maybe. Will that help? Where's my brain chakra? Is it weird that I carry a stone around with me like a Linus blanket? Charlie Brown was always depressed, right? But never annoying. Lucy. She was a boss. And a good role model for young girls, actually. And entrepreneurial with her advice stand. She's actually a good therapist. Tough love. I give good advice. I think. Do I? I definitely don't take my good advice. Man, I've made some bad decisions, and recently. Will I ever learn? Shit, meditate. I suck at this. Think of nothing. No things. Zero. Nada. THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE.
The harder I tried to think about nothing, the more freely nonsense bubbled up in my mind. After about five minutes, I desperately wanted to be doing anything else but sitting there with my eyes closed, so I got up, downed a glass of water, and came to grips with the fact that meditation wasn't for me. Then, I got an email. From Oprah.
Oprah emails me regularly, and she'll email you too if you sign up for her mailing lists. This particular email was about a 21-day Meditation Challenge that she and Deepak Chopra were offering. Like earth angels sent from the meditation gods, Oprah and Deepak were going to teach me how to meditate for free—EUREKA!
