Returning to the Center: A Year of Meditation (Week 36)

The first week of September felt like a soft restart. One night, I stayed up late listening to an old song, slept less, yet woke with gratitude. The past eight months had been written day by day—my life now had a path I could return to. Happiness, I felt, is being able to say: Nothing has been wasted.

Meditation remained my anchor. On tired days, it became a shelter where I could whisper, It’s safe here. You can rest. Between focus and escape, I saw my heart seeking balance. Persistence, I learned, isn’t about big leaps; it’s about returning, again and again, to the cushion.

My body spoke, too. Tightness in the chest, pressure around the heart—each sensation asked me to pause and turn toward it. And when I did, something softened. The body, I realized, knows how to heal. Meditation became more than mental training; it became a conversation with my own flesh and breath.

I also faced the cost of overwork. Talking with family, I saw clearly: pushing too hard leaves marks. The real obstacle isn’t work—it’s addiction to achieving, to moving nonstop. Without awareness, the mind doesn’t protect the body. It just races on.

Then came a moment that brought tears. In meditation, I imagined stepping onto the campus I’ve long dreamed of. I remembered a movie scene where students touched each other’s lifelines. Warmth flooded my chest. This wasn’t just about academia—it was a deeper wish: to bring life education into the world. “A PhD is only the beginning,” my professor once said. I felt, finally, like I’d come home.

By weekend, meditation brought quiet clarity. No crowded thoughts—just gratitude. After days of spinning, I’d stepped off the treadmill and back onto solid ground. I saw: wisdom is knowing when to hold on, and when to let go.

As the week settled, I felt the line between meditation and life grow thin. Awareness now lingers into my days. The PhD application no feels less like a life-or-death test—it’s part of the journey, a gift to accept gently.

This week reminded me: practice isn’t an escape from life. It’s learning to move within its waves—fully engaged, yet free; always going, always returning. No matter how far we wander, we can always come back to the center.