Day 18 Entry
Today wasn’t one sit. It was a series. The whole day became a meditation hall, each return to the cushion or bed uncovering a different layer of myself. What began as curiosity turned into a full arc of discovery, memory, and release.
Morning Cushion — The Itch and the Shadow
I started steady, breath calm, body grounded. Then an itch rose, and scratching it shifted everything. My tongue stirred, my eyes darted, my breath went dry. Focus unraveled. But before that itch, I saw something sharp: the shadow, the unmet self. Not with pity, but with clarity. I saw how lack of awareness had shaped suffering, cost me relationships, and kept me on the bleachers of life. A voice rose: rise up, man, you’re missing the fun.
The lesson? The scratch wasn’t failure. It was a teacher. It showed me how fragile attention can be, and how noticing the moment of shift is the true rep.
Second Sit — The Bed Slip
Later I sat on the bed, only to sink toward drowsiness. Yawns, heaviness, dozing. That sit taught me how environment shapes awareness: a bed signals sleep, a cushion signals practice. Not wasted — just another experiment logged.
Returning to the Cushion
Right after, I chose to go back to the cushion. That decision was the real victory. Not because it was flawless, but because I refused to end on drift. Discipline, eagerness, course correction — that was the lesson of the third sit.
Afternoon — The Knot of Sexual Expression
Later sits carried me into deeper territory: the primal fear of sexual expression. I saw clearly how repressing desire had clamped down not just on intimacy, but on my voice, my presence, my truth. Sexual energy blocked meant relational energy blocked. Breath by breath, I began unkinking the hose.
An image surfaced: introducing a girlfriend to my family. Nothing extravagant — just the small joy of being seen together, the warmth of presence. In that vision, intimacy flowed into connection, and connection into family lightness. A reminder that every knot I untie frees more than one door.
Evening — Tears and Roots
By evening, the sits carried me home. Tears came as I felt the truth: when I hurt myself, my family felt it too. Even in sleep, their hearts knew. But in those tears I also sensed the compass they gave me — my dad’s example in how he treated my mom, my mom’s steady presence. These values of respect, care, and authenticity were never lost; they were always roots beneath the noise.
Takeaway — The Long Arc
Today’s practice wasn’t about chasing perfection. It was about sovereignty. Each sit — scratch, drowsiness, discipline, sexual insight, tears — became a rep, building strength to meet myself without flinching.
Meditation, I see now, is not just quieting the mind. It’s returning to roots. To the kid who could play. To the son who knew respect. To the breath that feels good simply because it’s alive.
The tears weren’t disruption. They were proof: I’m not living a pretend life anymore. I’m reforming, loosening, remembering.
A big day. A spontaneous meditation day. Many sits, many lessons, one long arc of return.
And what follows from that alignment is natural confidence. To live honestly, to know you carry your family's heart around you, makes moving among people lighter. Put simply: honesty with myself and others is magnetic without effort. Not a persona, not grinding to prove — just me being me. From there, more truth unfolds in its own time.
