Meditation point

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Something shifted inside me a few years back. Something that made me get up earlier and go by the river. I was never a morning person before.

 

I started going to bed while the city was still alive outside my window. My reward was either the gentle glow of the first morning light or the fog embracing the forest around me. In that moment, I didn’t need to respond, only to absorb.

 

Everything is quiet early in the morning. Especially when a bit colder weather arrives from autumn onward. And calmness can do wonders if you let it.

 

The benefits I started noticing were huge, so I went on the morning walk day after day. After my walk, my head was clearer, my lungs full of fresh air, my legs stretched… I was in a better mood and more positive.

 

Then I noticed those walks weren't only walks.

 

They were the way I calmed myself. They boosted my energy and let me spend time alone with nature.

 

But I don’t walk all my time in the forest. I always have at least a few minutes to stare at the trees, the sky, the river, etc. That way, I feel more present in the surroundings.

 

Eventually, I started standing on the riverbank with my eyes closed, usually facing the morning sun when the clouds allowed. I let my arms hang loose at my sides. Then I listened to the river and the birds, and smelled the grass and leaves around me.

 

In those moments, I do my best to declutter my mind, to free it from all its baggage. And to settle my body. That may not be meditation by definition, but it’s my way of doing it.

 

I never did any research on meditation. I started practising what I felt was pleasant for my body and mind.

 

When I’m in nature, I like to inhale deeply, hold it for a few seconds, and slowly exhale. I fill my lungs with the fresh morning air. Meanwhile, my muscles start to loosen.

 

I don’t finish my session without a long stretch, which may seem odd to some. That is the cherry on top of my morning routine.

 

There is a spot by the river, deep in the forest, that fills me with a high amount of energy. I’ve known about it for a long time. But only a few years ago I started using it to calm my nervous system and boost my mood.

 

The spot sits under the wide canopy of a huge poplar tree, elevated above the river. The tree is fifteen to twenty meters tall. It looks at least a few decades old.

 

From there, the river opens up, flowing and curving between two forests.

 

During the day, it is a somewhat popular spot. I see many dog owners grooming their dogs. People gather by the campfire. And there are always some fishermen.

 

However, rarely is anyone there first thing in the morning. That is when I like to be out, to chill a bit and be alone.

 

Something about this place makes me so happy. I’m not sure whether it's the look of it or something else.

 

One day, my friend saw me standing, looking into the distance, before greeting me. Then he saw me the next day. And the day after.

 

Once he said to me, ‘’Oh, you’re at your meditation point again, I see.’’ From then on, I call this spot my meditation point.

 

Here, I can be silent, observing my surroundings, and take it all in.

 

I can enjoy the sound of rushing water, a joyful melody from the branches and the soft breeze passing through my hair.

 

I can enjoy the smell of the damp ground after rain and the moisture on the leaves.

 

I can blend with nature and feel where I belong. I can feel meaning in it.

 

These techniques are helping me regulate my cortisol levels.

 

In a world full of distractions and fast living, it is becoming increasingly difficult to mute all the noise. But for me, it’s important to have part of the day filled with peace and silence. And sometimes coffee, but that’s another story.

 

I rarely check my phone when I’m out in nature. Not even to see the time. I subconsciously don’t want to.

 

Around the spot I described, and along the trail to get there, are a few churches, each on a different side of the river. Their bells ring every hour. So I know the time approximately.

 

I may only reach for my phone to take a picture, which I rarely do, or to take a video. Sometimes I like to record sounds. I have a playlist on my phone with sounds of birds, a river, and rain hitting the leaves.

 

While standing under the poplar tree, I would raise my head and lose myself in the blue sky. Or I would watch how the upper branches twist. And how the birds are sitting on them.

 

There is something about watching birds fly in flocks. The way they can spread their wings and drift in the sky. And then the way they disappear in the distance.

 

When the world becomes harder to reach, and the chest gets heavy, I know to retreat into myself. During the process, my best friend becomes silence. That’s when my brain starts unpacking.

 

Being quiet is how I protect myself. I was born to feel things deeply, which I sometimes see as a flaw, but I know it isn’t. I usually need time alone to make sense of what’s happening inside me.

 

As time flows, I’ve become fluent in being quiet, so to speak. I return to it when I’m out among the trees or by the river. I found a place where breath, senses and location blend with me almost every time.

 

 

Done