Do you baby
My eyes are closed but I’m awake. I’m sitting in my closet, which is new, instead of in bed like I usually do. For some reason I decided that the dogs and bright light in my bedroom would take from my focus on this last session with Jackie. The last time I was hiding in my closet was under very different circumstances — crying into my clothes, hearing inundating thoughts that I shouldn’t be here anymore.
This time I hear different things. I hear birds through her end of the Zoom and through my Airpods. I hear the sound of my breath, faintly, the wash of a shhh sound as I push air meditatively out from my lungs and belly. And the reverb of her instruments, crystal sound bowls, singing with clarity like the sonics from inside of a conch shell. But I’m not at the beach, I’m not even in nature. I’m finding grounding on a cushion on the hardwood floor and flanked by hanging clothes and a few crystals I set up just to make it less of a closet vibe for the hour together.
After meeting on Zoom three months ago, life has changed dramatically. I’ve replaced massages and manicures with regular writing and meditation, finding refuge inside my mind instead of with more external, luxury comforts. Truthfully, I’m still basking in privilege and hyper-aware of the access I have in life — to work in tech, the security of a healthy marriage, my beautiful, juicy, hilarious children. I don’t think it would be very obvious to someone just meeting me that I struggled relentlessly with suicidal thoughts after having my daughter, though I have shared it on Instagram in a way that allowed me to be empowered and release shame.
As the sonics and peace-inducing tones cradle my consciousness and color the inside of my eyelids with shapes and hues, I’m noticing the tinge of a headache. My shoulders are tight from waking nightly with my sleeping beauty, our infant girl who is growing flawlessly.
I eventually move from a seated, legs-crossed position in front of my elevated laptop down to cuddle my pillow. I’m comfortable, and still with my eyes closed and listening to the hum of the singing bowls I grab a dress or some type of clothing to cover my eyes, making things a bit darker so I can block out the closet light and really go in, really relax.
I had a Chick-fil-A breakfast sandwich and some coffee this morning. My jaw is tight. It’s a bit warm in the closet. But I feel much more comfortable cuddled with my pillow on the ground like a rolled up cinnamon bun. I’m not asleep.
A funny thing my almost two year old son does to me sometimes, and just me, not his dad, is put his little finger on the tip of my closed eyelids and softly pulls them open. It’s like he’s saying “Open your eyes mama, wake up, look.” And though he doesn’t say the words, I’m comforted in the gesture, a sweet moment of connection we share. I’m also grateful that he’s never jabbed my eyeball.
Time suspends during a really focused meditation, at least for me. It’s like I’m floating, an effortless feather. There were definitely moments of thinking and what I think some would judge and label as “distractions” or “active thoughts.” I’ve learned that those hiccups in an otherwise zen moment are absolutely part of the experience.
At the beginning of the meditation I peeked my eyes open, which I rarely do. I wanted to catch a glimpse of my loving and bad bitch muse, Jackie, who’s energy radiates through the screen as seamlessly as the sound bowl sounds do. Her highlighter green crop top and cheetah shorts are emblematic of her effervescence. In celebrating our last session together I offer you, sweet reader, some sick words she shared with me that I think definitely need to go on a t-shirt (or crop top). Try saying it to yourself whenever you’re locked in the closet, or second guessing a post you want to share on Instagram, applying for that job or swiping right on a cute face. It’s a self-affirming phrase, to me, that means all is good, everyting Irie and a reminder to be yourself- Do you, baby.
