Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Ebb and Flow.

A couple  of years  ago,  when I was  just  starting  to meditate on a regular basis, it was really hard for me to get  into  it.  I’d  always heard  about  people  who  would meditate  and  get  the  full-blown TV  movie  playing  on their inner channels  whereas  I got…nothing. I would recline comfortably on the sofa, in the living room with my drums, plants, Indian  grindstones and heavy meteorites, and Light Altar nearby.

The Long-Awaited Honest-to-God Secret to Being Happy

I would try hard to relax and give myself some private time but often, one of the girls would bang into something or argue or turn on the TV or otherwise distract me from an intent to meditate for 20 minutes. If I did lapse into meditative self-awareness,  I’d be quickly  pulled out of it. The interruptions didn’t help my feelings of meditative inadequacy.

In time, I came to understand  visualization,  meditation, and how it all works and what a wonderful creative place I’d find  myself in. The girls, too, came to understand the calmness I needed for meditation which would in turn calm my nerves.

I also found that my meditations were different based on my  interaction  with certain crystals and gem stones, depending on the properties of the stone. I started placing one small stone on my third eye to assist the meditation and found that not only did it help me focus on the meditative state by the sheer small weight of something cool  on  my  brow  but  they  also  affected  the  intuitive flashes differently.

My copper-bound  crystal pendant, for example, connects me with the man in my dreams and meditations very easily. The chunk of amber or the rounded piece of jet that fits in my palm, both lightweight, produce different types of meditations. I’ve used amethyst, Larimer, laboradorite, pietersite, rose quartz, crystal quartz, and even a stone used in a shamanic journey—all with different effects.

My daughters  are used to finding me in meditation ever so often,  many times with a small round stone on my forehead  and a pleasant  smile on my face. They’re used to me sitting up later with a new book  idea or an epiphany, too.

Maybe they’re too used to it.

Last year, I came home from work with a god-awful headache I  couldn’t shake. I finally relented, took a pill, and crawled onto the sofa for a nap.

Sometime after that, I was vaguely aware of Aislinn tiptoeing through the room and opened my eyes. “Mommy?” she said, assuming  I was trying to meditate and was having trouble, “would you like for me to put some rocks on your head?”


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