So there I was–no phone, no car, no keys, no purse, nothing. It wasn’t exactly by accident. It’s just that I had emerged from a licensing test (long story for another day) where you could not have anything on you, not one thing.(Well, clothes of course. But not much else.) And I’d come out of the test center 20 minutes early. After one teeny, tiny moment of confusion and feeling kind of naked, I felt surge of delight.

Certainly, it helped that I passed the test. But what really fueled my glee was the wonderful sense of freedom resulting from my unconnectedness. The day was mild. There was a place to sit and a bathroom back in the test center if I needed it. For 20 minutes I walked around the outside of the building, situated near a main road and bookended by strip malls, and celebrated just being. I watched the two crossing guards, pondered the source of the cobblestones that took the place of a lawn, and was grateful for the combination of detachment (no tech) and security (I was alive and well and my ride would soon show up).

My health requires staying centered, soul-connected and in tune with my body and the world around me. And I certainly do my best to build quiet time into each and every day. But I do well to also enhance those practices by embracing serendipitous moments of retreat. I could have fretted that I didn’t plan better. I could have paced, anxiously willing my ride to know I was finished early. Many times that’d be my way of responding. Instead I embraced a way to just my self and my circumstances be.

Not a bad 20 minutes work! Here’s hoping that  the little bit will be the seed of more serenity more of the time. After all, I can unplug by choice as well as happenstance, right?

It is possible to slow your life down. Meditation trains us to live more and more from serenity, not frenzy.  It doesn’t have to be difficult. Trust me:

Forget everything you’ve heard or read about meditation. Forget trying to get it right.

Forget trying to make your brain stop spewing. It won’t, it can’t, that’s not its nature.

Let yourself bloom.

Lie flat on the bed or sit in a chair and just ride your breath, feel it come in, feel it go out. Don’t force it. Just be aware.

When your mind drifts, just politely (no scolding!) bring it back to your breath. Do it for as long as you can (set a timer if you want). Start with five minutes, then build.

There. You’re meditating!

With all my unhealthy comfort props gone, what does that leave? No more binge-eating. No more running up the charge card. No more expecting people to be and do what they can’t. Smoking? Drinking? Gone! Junk TV marathons? Bye bye.

I’m no paragon of virtue. Initially I had to find a way to replace food as a god because if I didn’t, I’d die of obesity-related ailments. Everything else, all the other mindless escapes, left in a cascade of understanding that anything I put in front of facing reality would eventually become the enemy. I don’t know how it is for other people (and I’m not opposed to fun, for goodness sake) but that’s how it is for this food addict. At a certain point, I figured I might just as well give up running away rather than tussle with the obsession de jour.

Which brings me to the subject of, if I’m not going to evade reality and be a comfort-junkie, how will I avoid being freaked out all the time? A mentor suggested I think of those times when I feel safe. Initially, I said never, because learning to trust the good in life has not come easily to me. But eventually I started remembering times of feeling loved, connected, touched and protected. Tucked up snug in my bed with a good book. In wide-open nature, beach or woods. When a friend calls to say she’s praying for me every morning. When another takes my call, offers infinite kindness and validation, and waits patiently on the other end of the line while I cry, then dry my tears. Then there’s singing–I always feel in the flow, free, clear and potent when I sing. Private family moments, too, when my guys are all gathered around the table, scarfing down my good cooking and cracking wise about their hijinks, the ones I didn’t know about at the time. How we laugh!

So where does this leave those of us seeking to live substance-free but not wallowing in misery? Once I know what makes me feel safe, I have two responsibilities:

1. Seek out healthy things that help me feel safe.

2. Remember these things, feel where they live in my body, when I’m in the crunch and any time I can.

When I honor my life this way, I get to have my life. I get to be a better, more useful person, to myself, others and my higher power. And I get to realize deep, deep in my gut, that my true state is infinite, eternal—and perfectly safe.