Nevertheless. I've been sitting for 20-25 minutes every work morning for some months now. (My goals for the coming year — not New Year's resolutions — include sitting every morning, not just work days, and getting myself to the Zen center
on a regular basis.)
This morning was fairly typical: up at the crack of dawn (the alarm goes off at 5:00), half an hour sitting in front of my therapeutic lightbox, dress and groom self, and out the door to catch the 7:22 bus, which was (again fairly typically) crammed full of grumbling commuters.
When I got off the bus downtown, it was chilly, damp, windy, and overcast. Puddles covered the ground, the guy who works at the porn shop was sweeping the sidewalk out front, and a couple of scruffy-looking guys were standing on the corner discussing how $5 for a pint of vodka is way out of line, man.
And I felt myself surrounded and suffused with the experience of "Yes — just this."
Oh, yeah. Going to be spending more time on the cushion.