The toughest thing for me to do is sit still.
Always gotta be doing something, even when I’m supposed to be relaxing.
I work at least a couple of hours a day on my “vacations,” because I can’t imagine just waking up, eating breakfast, piddling around, eating lunch, whatever.
The thought drives me bonkers.
I keep a checklist as a note on my phone.
The list includes 20 things that I need to do each day.
Things like: feed the birds, do 1,000 pushups, read a chapter of a book.
I’ve added three separate checkboxes for “meditation.”
Just sitting in the backyard, listening to the birds chirp, the water flow, the trucks on the interstate drive by.
The leaves on the trees, rustling in the wind.
It’s hard, man.
This afternoon, on my way to earning my second check, I hit the five-minute mark – the goal: 10 minutes – and I was like, I’m good.
And then, I was like, no.
Gotta get to 10.
I looked at the timer – yes, I time my meditations; I’m honestly insufferable to have to be around – two more times before I got to 10 minutes.
Doing nothing for 10 minutes three times a day is slowing me down.
But it’s hard, real hard.