Her Meditations: Priorities.

Last night, Nick set the alarm for 6:30a.m.  “So we can make time for meditation before you have to leave for work.”

The alarm goes off this morning and Nick wakes me up.  I tell him to leave me alone, that I am not a morning person, that I can’t just pop up and hit the ground running like he can, that I need to get showered, coffee, etc before I can meditate.  I then go back to sleep.

At 7:18 a.m., I get a series of texts: “Time to get up if you’re going to make time for meditation.”

Then: “:)”

Then a smiley face emoticon.

I snort.  He knows me, he knows I will wake up for the beep of a text more than an alarm.

I slowly get up, and he’s coming into the room with coffee.  I thank him, get ready for the day.  Go downstairs to breakfast made by him, eat, praise his omelette, criticize his toast, look at my final exam sitting on the table, barely started, start thinking back to our hard conversation from last night, look at him, feel depressed, get angry, get annoyed, close off, stop talking.  He notices. I go upstairs, finish getting ready.

He comes upstairs as I’m finishing, and I don’t want him to talk to me.  He comes over, looks at me, tells me I look pretty.  Touches my hair.  I smile and thank him.

He then hugs me, and then says, “Did you leave enough time?  To meditate?”

I reluctantly say, “Yes, sure.”

Day 2
Monday, June 16, 2014
Duration: 15 minutes
Position: Seated lotus style on ottoman, Nick on pillow, floor.

I close my eyes right away.  I hear him fiddling with his phone, setting the alarm.  I remember that I asked him to use the chimes to alert us, not the abrasive alert from yesterday.

I breathe in, out.  I sneak a look at him, he’s got his eyes closed, a slight frown on his face, mouth downturned.

I close my eyes, breathe in, out.

I hear the birds outside, the breeze in the trees, the washing machine kicking in, the drone of a neighboring air-conditioner.  The breeze feels cool, coming in through the open window.

Breathe in, out.

The washing machine is annoying.  Focus on breathing.  I think about Nick.  And our discussion from last night.  He’s so smart, so together in some areas, so vulnerable in others.  I wonder if he’ll ever be successful.

I force myself to focus on breathing in and out.

I think about his hug upstairs and how warm it felt. I think about looking at him rinsing the breakfast dishes in the sink, and the feeling of love that came over me while I watched him.  Why am I still with him?  What is it about him that draws me in, keeps me with him?  His cousin is surprised I’m still with him.  Why?

Breathe in, out.

My final exam.  I need the sheet on accounting for pensions.  I can’t find it anywhere.  I’ll have to ask the instructor.

My exam.  I’ll be too tired after dinner with Marina tonight to work on the exam.  There’s too much to do.

Breathe in, out.

I don’t have to go to dinner.  She’ll understand.  She said she didn’t want to skip yoga on Tuesdays and there was something else she didn’t want to skip on Wednesdays…I’m skipping Marquis AND finals for the dinner tonight.  Why am I letting myself off the hook for things that should be priorities?

Breathe in, out.

I do this often.  I don’t do the things that are important for my life and my goals, so that I can spend time with my friends.  They fit me in when it works with their priorities, but I put my fun time first.


Breathe in, out.

I’ve always done that.  I think about school and college.  Going from one set of friends to another, as they are available, to have fun and waste my whole day, while they only give me a couple of hours after they get their work done.

Breathe in, out.

I will take my workout clothes today and go to Marquis. I will reschedule dinner to next Monday.  Marina will understand.  I will come home, shower, and work on my final.

Breathe, breathe.

I hear the birds, a car driving by.

The chimes go off.

I open my eyes, Nick is fiddling with his phone, turning it off.

I sit there.  I look at him, he looks at me with a smile.

Which becomes a smirk.

I guess I’m smiling.

I’m not annoyed.