#487 – How does meditation help you access your natural creativity?

Which sounds more like you: sweeping only when the floor looks dirty, or every day, so that it's always clean?

For a couple of days I'd been half-assing or skipping my meditation sessions, almost rolling my eyes at the mantra. I wondered, "do I even need to meditate?" Really I felt "fine," what I thought was "at peace," so, why bother?

Then I remembered why.

1987, while packing for my first trip to the US, was the first time I felt the stress––not that I hadn't been nervous before; I just hadn't realized that nerves weren't me.

I'd been tasked with taking my grandma to Oklahoma City so she could visit her daughter, my aunt. I didn't want to come but I was an obedient 18-year-old and, hey, mom said I had to, so I would.

My bedroom was the farthest away from the laundry room in our Madrid apartment, and I realized I was walking back and forth, listlessly, taking a folded shirt to the washer, coming back with a towel but without the shirt, forgetting quickly whether the bathing suit was already packed or not. In a lightbulb moment, I thought "I'm nervous."

Was the same fogginess creeping in now? Maybe I wasn't feeling more "fine" or more "at peace"; maybe I just wasn’t noticing what I felt.

As I pondered that idea, I saw, in the corner of my eye, the cohort of ghosts sneering as they piled stuff against a spot inside my mind I couldn't quite see. I got closer and started to remove the "stuff," piece by piece: How will we find an apartment? Will my husband get a job? When does my son need to apply for college?

Once there was nothing, I saw a door. The ghosts glanced at one another, concerned, and I heard, "Shoot! She's found it!"

I opened the door and found an empty room, clean and bright. In that room, I still wanted to write.

That's how meditation, like sweeping your floor every day, keeps the door to your creative life clear of clutter.

What's for you in your empty room, when you keep it free of clutter?

Love,

Carolina