Lydia from Tallahassee: Micro meditation

Wow, when you’re connected you’re connected. When you’re connected you’re effervescent. Here’s a good example from the morning of the last day of my recent art trek.

 

When I’m traveling I look to the online reviews for touted local restaurants. I targeted one of these for breakfast on a Sunday morning — finding upon arrival that everyone else in Tallahassee was there too.

I stood in the large entryway with all of Tallahassee, awaiting open tables, a couple steps away from the cash register. The twenty-ish woman manning — womanning! — the counter was in overdrive keeping up with the customers checking out.

My god she was spreading good vibes all around.

She was alert to each customer, curious about their experience, asking about the clients personally, noticing chic clothes, funky jewelry, hairstyles. You could see the smiles linger as the diners ambled away.

At one point she said to me: “You look like you’re on an adventure.”

(I was standing there in my Columbia light outdoor pants and shirt, wearing a ripped and torn and weathered white cap, a small yellow backpack on . . . unchic, unstylish, with a hairless unhairstyle thing happening . . .) 

Me: “Well . . . I’m just coming off one.”

We talked about the art treks I’d been on this summer, Oh The Places I’d Gone!

Her name was Lydia. She’d graduated with her AA degree and was heading out to Colorado in a few weeks for her next bout of schooling.

Here’s what was so refreshing: Crowded as it was — and it had been that way already for hours — she remained vibrant and attentive and in the moment to every single person passing her way.

I’ve been to enough Sunday morning breakfast rushes in my travels to know that even the most accomplished individual wears down into polite perfunctoriness after a short while. The rush starts early and goes till midafternoon.

When I asked about how she did it, she replied, “Yoga.”

She looked the yoga type. Healthy, alive, natural.

“And meditation,” she added. Short bursts, whenever she needed it.

 

She described herself as only a few years ago having anxiety, even temper flares. Not any more.

 

“If I’m feeling stressed — even if I have a paper due in an hour — I’ll go and meditate for 10 minutes.”

She said the change has been massive.

I’m a fan of micro meditation myself. Even for a minute in a restroom if that’s all you can muster. So we talked about that.

How much smoother would this world run if everyone took personal timeouts before turning into a crappier version of themselves?

I know, that lesser self bursts out of me when I neglect my connection. Woah to all when I let that happen.

Micro meditation drops your heart rate . . .

. . . tunes you in . . .

. . . connects you to wisdom beyond time . . .

. . . suffuses you with this strange essence we call happiness . . .

Lydia from Tallahassee: “When all else fails, breathe!”

Listen to her. She’s a living embodiment of the benefits of micro meditation.

(And yoga.)

(And other practices too, I’m sure, that amplify the best and dissipate the worst.)

(One good thing leads to another.)