The About-Turn in My Meditation

I woke at 5:11a.m. today — not through discipline or force, but simply because I woke. I got up, fed the cats, and at 6:00 a.m. sat down to meditate.

And somewhere in that hour, something turned around.

I have been thinking about meditation as a journey inward, but this morning I saw more clearly how easily even meditation can become an act of control. We assume the posture, close our eyes, focus, try to quiet the mind. We try to become someone who meditates.

There is a subtle violence in that. The mind wanders, and we pull it back. It resists, and we push harder. We want to arrive somewhere. But arrive where? Nowhere.

The labyrinth of the mind has to be seen—not conquered. And perhaps the moment of seeing this is itself the opening.

In the final minutes of meditation, something softened. There was lightness. Ease. A quiet joy. Almost a playful quality. Nothing had been solved, yet something had released.

And that is the about-turn. Not becoming different through effort, but seeing differently. Not pushing myself toward the other shore, but realizing there is no shore to reach.

A small shift on the outside. A profound about-turn within.