For the past couple of years, meditation has been easy. I’d put in some hard work over the previous decade and had found a place of stillness each time I took to the cushion. Sure, sometimes what I met as I observed my mind was difficult, but my practice had become productive and indispensible. I spent the last two years as a stay at home Dad of a toddler. I did all of the Dad, and much of the Mom, stuff. I managed the house, cleaned (badly), cooked (very well), arranged activities and play dates, and did what I could to keep the family satisfied. None of this was easy, but my daughter napped every day. And while she napped I had a solid thirty-five minutes to meditate, without fail. I taught a couple of classes each week, and led a Wednesday night drop-in meditation group, but that was more rewarding and fulfilling than taxing.
Then, all of it came to an end.