The Meditation Coach

Back to the onions and how I know they are the secret to turning me into a runner. I was on my first retreat in Scotland and 3 months pregnant with my first, although no-one knew. I was too scared they would kick me out if they did. This wasn't some some champagne drinking, lulu lemon wearing come out with your toenails painted fuchsia retreat. It was Spiritual Bootcamp 101 for beginners comprising of 6 hours of yoga, 4 hours of meditation per day with some in complete silence. Everyone had chores and pulled their weight.

I quickly latched onto the slightly cross eyed, not quite 5 foot tall, elderly Scottish volunteer cook called Margaret who, to this day, remains one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. I was highly suspicious of the food that would be served and had come prepared with a suitcase full of provisions tucked away under my bed. I have had very little tolerance in the past of “fussy” eaters and then karma found me. I had always looked forward to the mystery of pregnancies cravings but all I had were aversions and I for 9 months reincarnated into the pickiest, fussiest most unbelievably awful eater in the world. I could not eat anything that had garlic, salt, pepper, spices, essentially flavour but most of all onions. And my husband couldn't either if he wanted to come within one metre radius of me. Then Margaret gave me my first chore; to finely dice a large bucket of onions.

I do not think I can properly convey how very much I did not want to dice those onions but I thought so highly of Margaret, and wanted her to think so highly of me in return, that I did not want to fail her on my first and deceiving simple task. So I thought I would give this meditation malarky a whirl to this chore and see if it worked. I was on retreat after all. I applied some simple and very rudimentary techniques. I focused on my breath, “cleared my mind”, only concentrating on the task. And lo and behold, I did it! I didn't find excuses or cry (from onions or otherwise) or wretch or complain or quit. This was quite a revelation for me. That bucket of onions had made me invincible. I could do anything.

The truth is that it took three more years of practise before I really “got” meditation. But the seeds were sown that day. Previously any spiritual exposure I had involved a lot of praying which to me means talking / asking. Like my number one prayer my friend taught me “Hail Mary full of grace show me a parking space.” Meditation is teaching me to shut up and listen. And run.