The Traveling Yogi

A couple of years ago, I began a morning meditation routine that started on Facebook and somehow migrated to TikTok. I rarely mention my books, maybe make a passing comment to my writing, and concentrate on a word for the day that either inspires or encourages me. It began as a spoof to see if I could find that many inspirational words, but throughout the time I’ve been doing it, it’s become a balm for my soul. A very selfish moment that I reminded myself to do every day, mostly because I needed the comfort. Selfish of me.

Then some of my friends mentioned how a particular comment I’d made caused them to smile or reached them in a deeper place. Those comments made me feel honored and somehow responsible for offering something of import, something that others could relate to. For a while, the meditations became difficult, then Ian, my husband, and I traveled to Spain, and the meditations became a different type of joy.

History stitched us into her streets, and the thrill of discovering brand-new places, strange sounds and tastes and textures intoxicated me. There’s nothing like stepping into a five-hundred-year-old cathedral and accidentally photo-bombing an exquisite bride and her father leading a twenty-foot-long white velvet train. I did my meditations on mountains overlooking Barcelona and Ronda, or as the cathedral church bells rang in Cordoba. Every moment was magical, as traveling often is.

We are traveling now, and I’ve found special garden spaces and quotes on benches, a small fountain, and a deep blue stream that moves quickly and counts a pair of elegant swans as its residents. My meditations include those natural elements, often inspiring me in a way I don’t feel at home in my little neighborhood forest.

Ian and I have seen this place from behind handlebars, riding our books up long, steep hills (and down the same), through college campuses and down brick-building-lined city streets. He calls this city of Ann Arbor “romantic,” and though I would agree, I’d rather be meandering down the rocky streets of Seville.

But I’ll meditate everywhere.

Namaste.