The Roller Coaster Mind
Sometimes the mind feels like a roller coaster. Splattered all over the place, invested in fear and worry, riding loops and twists that leave the stomach queasy. The show is loud, the colors are blinding, and everything seems to demand center stage at once. In those moments, it can feel like the tools we’ve gathered are far, far away – like the tool belt has gone missing behind the cotton candy machine.
And yet – this, too, is practice. The mind rides its rides, and I learn to ride alongside it, noticing the chaos without needing to immediately fix it.
Where Did I Put That Tool Belt?
There’s a common saying: “It’s like riding a bike.” Once you know, you know, and you never forget. There’s this myth that once you’ve learned practices of grounding, of breathing, of softening, they’ll always come to you the way riding a bike does. Automatic. Reliable. Muscle memory. But for me, the tools of practice don’t work that way. When the waves of intensity rise and roar, I sometimes forget where the pedals even are. The tools aren’t lost, but they’re slippery. It takes real presence to reach for them, to buckle them on, to use them in the heat of the moment. Practice is not a reflex; it’s a conscious choosing, again and again.
Naked in the Rain
So what happens when the storm comes, and the rain jacket is nowhere to be found? I’ve learned that it’s not necessarily a mistake. Maybe the practice is simply to get drenched. To let the rain soak through the clothes, drip down the skin. The trouble only comes when there’s resistance to getting wet. Some days, the lesson is in surrendering to the soaking. Some days, the practice is riding storms without armor.
Beyond the Old Labels
There was a time when I would have labeled a disconnected or stiff practice as a bad one. Now, I simply see it as practice. All of it. Process, practice, process. Every twist of resistance, every wobble of exhaustion, every rigid inhale or distracted exhale – each one is terrain. Fertile terrain. Not always fun, but alive with lessons that don’t reveal themselves instantly. Practice doesn’t always hand you the insight in the same moment. Sometimes it buries it, like a seed, waiting for the right season to sprout.
Chocolate Ice Cream Wisdom
And the beauty is, we don’t always know what we are learning in the very moment of it. When we are immersed, the insights are often hidden. They need time. And yes, sometimes the deepest wisdom wears sprinkles. Sometimes the moment of medicine looks like chocolate ice cream melting too fast in the bowl, reminding me that sweetness is also a tool. Play is a tool. Rest is a tool. Even forgetfulness is a tool – it humbles me, reminds me that I’m not here to master perfection but to be softened by the process. Life doesn’t always want me to ride a smooth path with balanced posture. Sometimes it wants me sticky-fingered, rain-soaked, and messy, scooping joy from the unexpected.
The Practice of Process
So here it is, the reminder tucked inside today’s storm: it’s all process. The soft days, the jagged days, the days when everything is poetry and the days when everything is static. Practice isn’t about producing pristine moments – it’s about showing up with whatever is here and letting it shape us. Even when we forget the belt, even when the storm soaks us, even when we’re eating ice cream for dinner. It’s all practice, and the practice is alive.
With so so much love and appreciation,
Meghan