Just Sit

I didn’t even realize how far from center I was until I tried to touch it – and couldn’t find the way. 

She found me in the studio, sweating and breathing hard.  I was forcing my body through a difficult sequence, just trying to “work it out.”

My eyes couldn’t focus on her as I burst into rapid breathless speech about the funeral later today, my overwhelming anxiety, and my “inability to shield.”
I told her I had “tried everything:” mudras, movement, chanting, restorative, reiki. I couldn’t seem to get myself together.

She told me, “you need to just sit.”

“I did an hour and a half of restorative yesterday,” I replied.

“That’s not sitting. That’s doing.

You need to sit.”

I was terrified, and she saw it all over me.  

So she sat, with me, for a half hour (we timed it).  My only instructions were to tell *anything* that came up, “I’m not interested.  That’s not relevant.” 

And it felt like torture, at first.  I kept trying to focus on breath, or silently chant Om, or visualize my  sacred place.

. . . 

Somewhere along the way, my center found me.  God.  The Divine.  Timeless, soundless, thoughtless, precious and beautiful nothing/everything.  

And it felt so good.

Now that I remember the touch of that sacred, silent, center, I can return – and I will.

Because teaching is doing, too.  And as much as I love it, I remember now that I need to just sit.