Waiting for Rain

I hear two frogs speaking to one another, one with a deep somber bass, the other a flippity alto.
I think they are flirting.

I hear Leaves whispering and quiet jingling that tells me of a breeze; a breath.
I hear buzzing or humming and I cannot tell if it is the vapor lights thrumming, or a preview of the expected cicadas.
I hear voices from other porches and sidewalks.
Sounds are low tonight, and very near.

I smell the early perfumes of flowers, and the clean scent of overturned dirt, and a hint of a freshly mown lawn. I smell rain.

Rain is coming to a place near me.

Meditating on Meditation

 Meditation is supposed to be a method for many things, Goal setting, stress reducing, creating mindfulness, just plain creating. As I said, Many things.

I once took a class in college about meditation. 

It was a strange experience for me. 

I followed the same directions as the rest of the class. 

Relax. Concentrate on your breathing, not thinking. Do not think.

As I did these things, I became aware of many things.

The swoosh-swoosh of my heart beating.

The whoosh whoosh of my breathing.

The scritch of my hair on my shirt when it moved.

The way my sleeves felt on my arms, and the marvel of the difference in the feel of material in my pants against my thighs.

And the swoosh and whoosh and scritch and the caresses were somehow without me-- outside of me. All part of an enormity. The wind was breath, the heartbeat was water constantly moving, and I was a cloud, being caressed by the sun and tickled by the wind.

And then the instructor recalled us all to ourselves and began a discussion about what had happened in our minds.

The other students spoke of doors opening and closing, of distant phones ringing, of people talking in other parts of the building, of classmates coughing, and someone whose breathing whistled , and someone else who kept clearing their throat.

They marveled over how clearly they heard these things, and I was sitting there thinking "But all you have to do for that stuff is to listen. That's not a special talent. Or is it?"

No wonder meditation wasn't working for me. I must have been doing it wrong.

Now, I know that there are different types of meditations,

I have learned that there are different paths of meditation that can take the participants to the same Place.

I have learned that the same meditation path can take people to different Places.

But then, I thought I was doing it wrong. 

I thought that meant there was no value for me in it. 

Even now, it is difficult for me to freely do it, without feeling or fearing wrong.

I have to take my own advice sometimes. 

Just listen.

Pay attention to what you hear.

And feel.

And see.

And while others may be stuck in the classroom in the world, I can be a cloud, a part of Nature's water cycle, whispered to and tickled, and caressed by the many factors of a Bigger Place.

And there's nothing wrong with that.