Sometimes when I sit down, I use maybe a cushion or just a little green couch, it's very hard to stay still. Sometimes I don't breathe right.
Sometimes I think I've forgotten how to breathe altogether and never ever should the process be left up to me as a manual operator of the system. I can't help but think about it. By paying attention to the breath, I somehow start trying to control it.
Sometimes I can calm down and just breathe little shallow breaths that maybe are happening on their own. In out. In out. Oh, you forced that last bit. In out. In out.
Once that's under control I start forgetting the breathing is happening, even though I'm supposed to pay attention to it. So my mind wanders and I'm thinking about things, mostly things that don't need thinking about.
But so it goes, and so goes my mind with it. One thought, two thoughts, three thoughts, four! So many little things. Where are they coming from? Echoes of things I've done or I'm doing. Little murmurs that won't be turned away at the door but insist on passing through, if only for a few minutes.
What strikes me the most about them is that they're pretty boring. Something to occupy my time until I remember that not only am I breathing but that I should go back to paying attention to it.
There is a tension there, but I remember that I shouldn't be tense about that. Of course you can't pay attention forever. How about a minute? Probably not. Too many little thoughts tinkering inside, maneuvering for space.
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