Listening to Perfection.

I've been practicing writing in my journal at least once a week.

This morning, I set out to write about perfection.

But as I began, I noticed something small, I wasn't wearing my glasses.

I had forgotten them. The words on the page were blurred, and vague.

Still, my confidence remained steady, as clear as calm water, and I chose to continue.

Then, without warning, I dropped my pen.

Something was asking me to stop.

So I did and listened.

I closed my eyes and became aware of the hum of the air conditioning,

It was louder than I would've liked.

For a moment, it bothered me, but then I let it fade into the background, allowing it to simply exist.

I felt some cool air brushed against my feet, and

I thought: This might make me sick.

But I released the thought just as quickly, letting go of the fear.

Instead, I found myself content focusing on the sensation itself, the touch of the air on my skin, cool and alive.

In the distance, a low rumble passed through the silence.

A jet, perhaps. Or maybe thunder.

I continued wondering …

Then I smiled and realized that

I really didn't need to know.

My breath was slow and steady, independent of my thoughts.

As I inhaled, a soft pop released from the right side of my neck, followed by a wave of ease, a quiet, soothing relief.

Other distractions came and went.

But slowly, I realized they weren't distractions at all.

They were simply events being present, just as I was.

So I allowed them to be, offering them the same grace I was learning to offer myself.

As I stayed with this awareness, my head began to move slowly, almost imperceptibly, circling in gentle motion.

With each movement, I felt layers of tension unraveling, softening discomfort.

Even traces of pain began to dissolve as my head continued its quiet rhythm, moving to one side and slowly reversing.

I had known the tension,

Discomfort and pain were there,

But I hadn't stopped to truly notice it.

Until now.

And I was giving my full attention . . . I stayed present with my body in a way I hadn't been before.

There was no resistance.

No judgment.

I felt no need to change anything.

Only a sincere openness …

A willingness to understand and accept.

With patience and compassion, I allowed my body to show me what I had long ignored.

And this time, I stayed even longer . . .

Do you know what else I realized? Perfection is always there, in any event, in any way . . . we can see it if we stop, listen, and discover it.

TRY THIS FREE GUIDED MEDITATION: Listenting to Perfection.

To close, I'd like to invite you to Just notice your own experience, and ponder:

What happens when, what you thought was a distraction becomes an invitation to stop and listen?

What might your body, your breath, or your surroundings be asking you, to notice today?

Feel free to share here your comments.