The morning after…

That was a bad idea. Going out partying on a Saturday night when I had to leave early this morning to go and visit my dad. I’ve got a headache and I didn’t even drink any alchohol.

I don’t like parties. I wasn’t hugely enthusiastic about going to last night’s, but wanted to catch up with a few old friends. It didn’t take me long to realise that it’s best to do this in a place where you can hear yourself think.

My throat is hoarse from shouting and as I only heard every third word, I couldn’t tell you what was said above the strains of 80s favourites.

Only 48-hours ago I was having a conversation with someone who advised me to make feelings based on a gut instinct and not what my head tells me to do. I nodded enthusiastically. I was going to do that from now on. Then I went and did the opposite.

There are no big regrets, it was just a small reminder to stick to my guns.

In other news, Marion’s monthly meditation group started up again. I turned up on the doorstep feeling panicky and anxious and after two-minutes with my eyes closed, I sank into a pool of calm. It was rather like getting into a warm bath after a period of hard physical graft.

Dropping into the stillness is never that easy when I am on my own. My attempts to meditate have gone awry recently. I make a point to stop and be still, but invariably get tangled up in and carried off by my thoughts. Friday’s group was a reminder that the stillness is always there even when it feels a million miles away.

The good news is, I have a day at my favourite retreat centre this week and at the end of the month, I am doing a four-day silent retreat. I will either emerge floating on a cloud or in a strait-jacket. I’m not taking any bets at this stage.

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