Saturday, February 1, 2014

Day 10

Today I decided to meditate to the sounds of the ocean. I found a recording of the waves crashing onto the shore and every time I heard the waves crashing I imagined that they were crashing against my stress and taking them away out into the ocean. I think that most of my stress comes from the perpetual motion of our society. Everyone is going somewhere or doing something every second, unless they are sleeping, including myself. 

The problem is that we can't stop. We're all running a race and if we stop we will be trampled by everyone else. When we finally can get up we will be so far behind that we'll never get the medal that we worked so hard for. When you're running a race you can't look around at the beauty of nature; you have to keep your eyes straight ahead and concentrate on the people that are ahead of you. And, when your coach yells at you to pass someone, you better pass that person.  

For me, the race is IB and the medal is the IB diploma and acceptance letters from my dream schools. The coach is my family. They tell me that they will be proud of me no matter what but I know that they will be so disappointed if I don't reach my "potential".What is my potential? I have no idea. I am the youngest in my family and the last person to make everyone's dreams come true. All of my cousins and my brother have disappointed my family in someway or another; I am the only one left to make my family proud.

So with these depressing thoughts in my head I closed my eyes and meditated to the sounds of the ocean. As I listened to the waves I could feel my stress melting away and peace left in its place. At the end of the meditation I felt renewed and ready to face my crazy, hectic life.  
Posted by at

1 comment:

  1. Timothy RussellFebruary 23, 2014 at 6:27 AM

    You may have heard Robin Williams reading this poem in a recent commercial, but it is actually a Walt Whitman poem. This blog reminded me of it. Here it is:

    Oh me! Oh life!

    Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
    Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
    Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
    Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
    Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
    Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
    The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

    Answer.
    That you are here—that life exists and identity,
    That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

    Here is the link: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/182088

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)