When we first start meditating, the mind is like a young kitten—scampering off, chasing butterflies, getting distracted, tipping over, getting hungry, bumping into walls. And each time it wanders, we hold it gently, and kindly invite it back into our lap.
Some days I find myself suspended between feeling too much and not wanting to feel anything at all. Buddhist philosophy points to a middle way between these two extremes.
For the coyote in the Warner Brothers’ cartoons, hitting the ground usually meant he was about to get crushed by a boulder and mocked by his quarry, the roadrunner. “Meep meep!”
What does it mean for us?