I’ve never been much of a formal mediator. Although I meditate every day, it’s usually not a “sitting down at the same time every day kind of practice.” It’s more “breath as you go” or taking 10 minutes whenever I can squeeze it in.

Recently, however, I decided I’d try a more formal practice, actually waking up early (imagine!) to meditate. It’s been interesting, first of all, to see the difference between where my mind is at the same time each day. Some days I wake up really calm and immediately float into a blissful place as I listen to the gentle sounds of the day waking up around me. Other times my mind is more agitated or scattered, and I get to observe that and release some of it before I move on with the rest of my morning.

Wherever I am any particular morning is fine. The best part isn’t what my mind is doing on any given day – the real gift is that I get to greet myself in a deep way first thing in the morning. This is an intimacy that has been a surprise and a delight. So even though the weather is getting chillier and the prospect of padding over to my little spot before the sun is up is a stretch for me, I’m doing it and the benefits keep me going…

Yesterday evening the first hint of fall was in the air, so I decided to meet my hubby for a date at a nearby restaurant with a beautiful outdoor courtyard. The evening started perfectly.   Sipping on our drinks, we listened to water trickling down a small stone fountain, inhaled the flavors of a rich mole sauce wafting from the kitchen and noticed how blue our eyes looked in the fading light.

Deep into conversation an hour later, I suddenly noticed my energy had dropped. Tuning in, I found a mild headache, stiffening shoulders, and I realized I was shouting.  It was the music. When we arrived, there had been no music other than the fountain and birds. I had vaguely been aware of music starting during our conversation, but it had obviously been turned up louder and louder until now it was at such a volume I had to raise my voice to be heard.

I don’t understand why it is that restaurants, especially outdoor ones, feel they need to create “atmosphere” by cranking up the tunes. Do they feel we’re unable to appreciate the subtle symphony of sounds that happens with soft or no music? Or that distraction is the only way we can enjoy ourselves?

As my husband and I left, retreating to the relative calm of the parking lot, we took a sigh of relief. I started thinking of all the noise pollution we contend with during our day, and how much happens that we don’t even consciously notice – but that our bodies register and react to nonetheless.

Ponder: What are the noises around you at this very moment? Is there a squeaky air conditioner whirring in the background? A barking dog? Rustle of leaves?  Are the noises making you feel more relaxed or more tense? Simply by being aware, we get to choose what our next step is.