I sit cross legged on a small, blue, square ottoman. This little ottoman is in a beach front hotel in Cabo San Lucas, and I have decided it would make a perfect meditation cushion. So, I move this little square to sit in front of the two hotel room windows which look out to the beach. I also make sure both windows are wide open so I can hear the ocean and feel the cool breeze.

I sit cross legged and settle into this makeshift chair. I close my eyes and take three long, deep breaths. I feel pressure on my forehead. Another deep breath. Stop thinking, just breathe.

After some time of stillness, I feel the pull, a tug-of-war between what I hear from these two windows.

Through one window, a smaller, rectangular window, I hear human sounds. Sounds of vacationers enjoying a beachside resort. Kids shouting and laughing as they run on the sand. Sounds from a beach volleyball game being played. Shouts of joy as another point is scored. A basketball bouncing and the bop, bop, bop of a pickle ball being hit back and forth. These are beach sounds. Sounds of family and friends. Sounds of fun in the sun.

Through the other window, a bigger window, I hear the ocean, the waves crashing into the shore and then sweeping back out. This is a calming sound, a rhythmic sound, a spiritual sound. A sound I often long to hear, a sound I love to hear.

My thoughts turn back into this tug-of-war once again. Do I follow the sounds of fun, or do I follow the sounds of stillness? As I sit cross legged on the square ottoman my body starts to sway back and forth, side to side, leaning towards each window. I wish the sounds coming from the smaller window would fade away, I don’t want to hear them anymore. I want to be with the ocean waves, I want the water to cleanse me each time it sweeps back out, to take away any distractions. I want to hear only ocean waves. I start to feel agitated.

Why can’t people just be quiet and still?

I soon realize this tug-of-war is my constant struggle in life. This is my constant internal argument with myself.

I want to have fun and do what I want. I don’t want to follow the everyday rules of society. I want to walk barefoot and feel the ground under my feet. I want to sit and meditate for hours. I want to be on a life-long vacation.  Who doesn’t?

I start to feel emotions of sadness and my heart feels heavy, tears start to form in the corner of my eyes. I often feel pulled in two opposing directions at the same time. In one direction is family, friends, community and all the hurts in need of healing. The other direction is the pull of solitude, stillness, self-love, and forgiveness. A place I can just be. A place I wish to be more often.

How can I exist in these two opposing worlds at the same time?

I take a deep inhale in through my nose and a big exhale out through my mouth. The tension starts to subside. I continue with these deep breaths, eyes closed and breathing slowly, in and out.

I know if I stay here a little longer, I can shift my focus to where I choose. The ocean will soon be all I hear because this is where I choose to focus. There is comfort knowing I can return to the sounds of life coming from the smaller window at any time, but for now I choose the ocean. I choose the voice of the crashing waves. Each wave that comes crashing in fills me with strength to keep going and my heart and soul are cleansed by each wave as it returns to rejoin the ocean, taking what no longer serves my higher purpose.

I have often felt the need to choose between what these two windows represent; a world filled with fun and those I love and care for, and a place of solitude. I have often felt the urgency and pressure of having to pick one over the other.

Taking this time, here and now, to be present, to be still and listen. I hear…

“You don’t have to choose one over the other, we love you equally and will always be here when you need.”

 

Tears well up in my eyes and my heart responds…

“Thank you, I love you too.”