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.
