Meditation and me.
As my 7-year-old lowered himself into my lap, I changed my half lotus meditation pose to a butterfly shape so his warm, sleepy form could nestle in it. Eyes closed, I smiled and continued to focus on my breath which now danced with the echo of his. After a few minutes he loudly clicked my earphone case. Open, close. Open, close. Sometime later he spoke a few questions, testing if I'd answer, and I noticed something small and profound. I hadn’t scowled, my body hadn’t tensed, I hadn’t lost focus or cursed that my 20 minutes of calm was being disrupted. I’d observed these interruptions and let them go. Practice was life, life was practice, and for that particular meditation practice, my son was part of it.
I first began meditating almost 17 years ago, hoping for better sleep. I’d suffered with insomnia at university and had been afflicted with nightmares and teeth grinding since childhood. This had led to lockjaw, a hospital procedure, muscle relaxants and gum guards. It wasn’t long before my sleep and my jaw issues subsided, and I pushed meditation aside as an occasional measure for when things got bad, or perhaps a luxury sparingly used when I had time to do it. I picked meditation up like a forgotten, much loved toy each time I hit a low, and it never disappointed; I've never once sat to meditate and regretted it.
Meditation brought me tranquility during stressful jobs, respite from night terrors replaying the emergency c-section of my eldest son. It reminded me how to relax when again and again my insomnia returned at each intense milestone in my life. But I was slow catching on; I kept putting meditation back in a drawer each time the danger subsided. The penny finally dropped that meditation was the philosophy I wanted to live by, when I observed one day how I was speaking to my boys while telling them off. I remember feeling sick at the passive aggressive phrases I used in a voice that didn’t sound like me. It was like I was watching someone else.
Once I was meditating every day, I had patience and compassion more consistently with my boys. I was often able to pause rather than being reactive. I felt gratitude even on grey days. I no longer clung to ‘what ifs’. Other niggling symptoms faded away: digestive issues, feeling tired all the time, crippling menstrual cramps. I noticed I got ill less and when I did, I recovered quicker. My asthma inhaler went unused, went out of date and wasn’t replaced. And it was fantastic to get a good night’s sleep – to know I had the tools within me to realign my vital bodily rhythms. The benefits I experience from meditation continue to amaze me. But the best thing is the journey it’s taking me on as a parent; that I’m now sharing meditation with my children with curiosity and an open mind.
I wrote this piece back in March 2025 as part of my meditation teacher training and thought it was an apt opening journal entry. My personal meditation journey is something I’ve mostly kept private but as part of becoming a meditation teacher I’m stepping outside of my comfort zone and have begun sharing my experiences in the hope it might help others begin or continue their own paths into meditation. If you’d like to learn more about the scientifically proven benefits of meditation and mindfulness, take a look at the Why meditate? page.
Emma x