Every day I draw on the knowledge and techniques I learned at SSRP. I'm feeling as good physically as I ever have, and I'm off blood pressure medication completely. Plus, I've become kinder and more patient -- with myself and with others. Thank you for running such a great program.

Over the last few weeks I have found safety in my own breath. I have reconnected with my inner voice. I can dream again without fearing to let go. Anxiety will always be a part of me, washing over me like waves in an ocean. But instead of fearing it and sinking to the bottom, I am learning to embrace it as a part of me, to let the waves come and go while I float without struggling. I can let go. I just have to remember that peace is inside me. Breathe. 

Another effect of this body insight is that various times during the day I'll take stock of what I'm experiencing, and mostly I'll think, "Not too bad." And that's a good thing. I can walk and see and hear, and I'm not in pain. I'm more grateful for that, for the senses I have, and that I'm breathing. I do appreciate the moments more, even when they are mundane, which, of course, is the vast majority of moments. 

I confess I was of two minds when I joined the program. I was feeling very stressed and knew that I had to make a change in my approach to life. However, adding an 8-week commitment - as well as a retreat and homework - was a big addition to my already packed "to do" list. So the start of the stress reduction program ironically stressed me out because I approached the program as I do most everything in life - aiming for perfection, to give it 110 percent. Things shifted when I took to heart Selma's advice to take from the program and "carve out" my own practice. I benefited from a classmate's comment that it will take a long time to process everything that we are learning. In reflection, I come away with an awareness that I believe will be invaluable to me as I continue to form a daily reflective practice. 

I was meditating the other day while walking, when I suddenly smelled a strong scent of apples. My mind raced and my heart jumped: this was the same smell of apples in our cellar, where I would go sometimes with my father when I was little, to help him pick the best apples and remove the rotting ones. Could meditation bring back olfactory hallucinations from the past? But as I turned around for my next stretch of slow walking, I noticed from across the room, which was hardly lit and dark, a huge bowl of apples. I was about to walk towards it to breathe in the smell and the memories when I remembered that I was supposed to be meditating and not dwelling on cellars and fathers and apples.

I went back to my walking. Then it dawned on me that meditating was perhaps similar to the fantastic tales where a hero has to take a long journey to find a treasure, and is warned against the incredible temptations that will arise along the way, some frightening and dangerous, figures from the past, from his/her fears, but also sweet apparitions born of desires, dreams. And most importantly, that he should never, ever, stop and talk to them if he wants to reach destination. 

The rest of my meditation on that day was easy. Every time a new thought would arise, I would pass by it without opening the door, since that would just prevent me from staying on my path. Doors can wait and can always be opened later. 

Things changed for me that day. I used to think that my kingdom was way over there, an infinitesimal point hardly visible in the midst and the mists of a faraway land, past the hills of hard work and self-improvement, the deep forests of self-criticism and guilt, the strong currents of fate and heredity. But I know now that this kingdom lies right here at my feet, on my feet. It will just take some time getting used to it.