These teachings never resonated with me, to the point that I had resigned myself to the fact that meditating was just not for me. They all somehow made meditation feel like this esoteric exercise and state that you could aspire to reach and be ready for.

I never was.

There were too many obstacles, too many rules of engagement, and the high expectations this invoked – and the barriers to entry – felt unrealistic.

What I realised over the past months – and what has sustained a beautifully simple and relatively consistent practice over the past year – was the realisation that meditation is not a thing you “do”. It’s not an exercise – and it certainly doesn’t require any special equipment, clothing, or even time of day. Meditation is ubiquitous. It is synonymous, and entirely compatible, with real life.

Meditation is really just the space and time you allow yourself to listen.

To pay close attention. It is the time you take that is the most free of chaos and conflicting signals, where you intentionally stop and dial up the signal-to-noise ratio, so that you are better able to hear, see, feel, and just notice what arises.

Our days are so full of busyness and noise, and that makes it very hard to experience our lives clearly. It creates an environment where we go into a mode of just reacting, of being reactive. Being lived – by our thoughts, by our emotions, by everything around us.

Being able to clearly hear ourselves – and each other – is so important, because it allows us to take control and reverse this dynamic. To live our lives the way we want. To not just be reactive, or governed by our thoughts or emotions in every waking moment.

To listen closely, to experience deeply.

This is what I have been craving for as long as I can remember. To have the space and time to step back and just be. Be with my sensations and experiences, to not rush or be rushed. To live according to my own pace, not anyone else’s. This used to make me feel incredibly stressed – this sense of feeling rushed, or negotiating the time pressures of other people’s expectations and agendas.

And I realised recently – that I don’t feel that way anymore. Because all of that goes away, when you just stop. And breathe, and listen. And suddenly the question is no longer – what do other people want, need, or expect from me – but instead:

What do I want? What do I feel?

And listening and living like that has been a key building block for a more fulfilling life.