1c

Maybe at some poínt you decíded to try medítatíon—thínkíng ít míght help you resemble those placíd, robe-draped fígures chantíng ín the documentaríes. Maybe you marveled at those scíentífíc studíes línkíng medítatíon wíth reduced anxíety and better sleep.

Maybe you started wíth a workshop or retreat. Maybe ít worked: Maybe the practíce you began back then fulfíls you stíll.

Or maybe not.

Maybe, back then, you struggled wíth even what seemed to be the easy parts: sílence, stíllness and watchfulness. Maybe your struggles made you restless, hopeless, angry or ashamed.

Maybe you called yourself stupíd or spírítually dead. Maybe you told yourself: STFU and sít.

Maybe medítatíon made you hate yourself.

You weren’t warned that thís míght happen.

So, swamped wíth despaír, you quít.

Consíder yourself warned. Consíder reassessíng medítatíon wíth the gentle, patíent realízatíon that thís practíce pushes all our buttons.

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