Morning in my Body: A Meditation
Contemplating embodiment, and appreciating the physical self, all before getting out of bed.
The room is still, quiet and cool. The air conditioner has finally caught up from yesterday’s heat.
I am awake.
There has been, for how many hours I’ve slept, no external stimulus to distract my mind from my physical self. As I lay in bed, unclothed, eyes still closed, not yet disturbed by news, plans, images, videos, or words, I take stock of all that there is in the moment.
Me, in my body, in this room.
I’ll remain this way until I hear birds calling out to each other. Ten minutes? Thirty? Having not yet looked at my phone, I have no conception of time. The birds’ high-pitched chirps will tell me when to break my stupor, at which point I’ll open my eyes. The time will have come for me to rise, to place my feet on the floor, to more formally begin this day.
But not yet.
This preceding moment is also a beginning, lighter, slower, a liminal transition from slumber into consciousness. There’s an awareness both limiting (of the outside world) and heightened (of my self).
A deep breath in. Hold. Exhale. Again. And again. I remain trained on my physicality.
