Questions without Answers: Days Two Hundred Eighty-Six - Two Hundred Ninety

As soon as I sit down to meditate, my reflex is to resist. This routine reflex has been even more pronounced over the past couple of days. I coax myself with what I think will be a soothing mantrasat, chit, ananda. No go. I pacify myself, talk to myself as if I were a small child: It's okay. You can do it. Try again. I try a new mantra: at ease, at ease, at ease.  Meditation is self-reflection without the questions. At least, during the meditation, I do not ask the questions. But now, after it's over, the questions multiply in geometric progression.

  1. Why the extra level of resistance now?
  2. Where does it come from?
  3. What am I trying to tell myself?
  4.  Where do I even begin?
  5. What is that vapor of emotion and why can't I figure out what it is?
  6. Why am I  a mystery to myself?
  7. Will this meditation thing help me resolve the mystery of me?

If only meditation provided a few answers. It doesn't, at least for today it doesn't.

Instead of answers, I'm left with more questions.

8.  How will I learn to be at peace with more questions?

Blue question mark