Written by René Fay

I have a confession to make. After decades of practice, I still have a hard time getting to the cushion some days.

My mind gets so creative with what suddenly feels urgent. Of course, I tell myself, I'll meditate right after I do that thing — but that thing reminds me of another thing, and since I'm already up, I might as well do that other thing, too.

Maybe you're familiar with this mode, even if you're not a meditator or someone who struggles to get to the cushion. I know I'm not alone in this, because one of the most common obstacles my students name is simply getting to the cushion. I hear about how packed their lives are, how hard it is to make time for anything.

And I get it. Intimately. No part of me thinks my students are lying, exaggerating, or being lazy. This worldly pace moves fast, and there can be real consequences to not keeping up. Our minds do what minds do: try to order and control the chaos. It can feel like perpetually treading water so we don't drown.

The ocean of things that need doing is vast, maybe bottomless — exactly like the thoughts in our minds. In that way, getting into practice is the practice itself.

On the cushion, we train to notice when we're lost in thought and non-judgmentally acknowledge it as thinking, using that noticing as an invitation back to the present, often via the breath or another sense perception. The same is true for getting into practice. When I notice I'm being pulled into life's endless chaos, I acknowledge it and use that as an invitation to disrupt it.

A teacher once told me, “You always have time to say hi to your cushion.” And it's true — once I've gotten into my practice posture, once I've done the small but hard work of interrupting the current that was pulling me along, I'm almost always met with the understanding that I do, in fact, have time to practice. Waiting for a convenient break in life is like waiting for the mind to magically clear itself of thoughts.

From this practice of gentle, momentary interruption comes a different perspective: not everything important is immediately urgent. That's hard to remember when we're used to moving from one thing that needs doing to the next, and the next. By showing up to my cushion, I challenge the belief that there is no time or space for practice and care, and instead find myself with space to choose how I reenter the ocean of to-do, rather than just being pulled along by it.