Meditation

by Jingzhe Zhang

It is a Saturday. The time is 9:26 p.m. It is rainy. The rain puts me in a low mood. I sit down at my desk as usual and begin to meditate. When I close my eyes, all I can hear is the sound of rain. It makes me mindless. I cannot focus on my breath. Then I force myself to accept the sound of rain by thinking to myself “Here” and “Now.” Slowly, my mind stops thinking and is empty. And I feel the sounds around me disappear. I can only hear my own breathing. There is silence all around me, as if I was alone in the vast darkness. It makes me feel calm but a little scared. Later, sounds around me come slowly. I can feel all kinds of sounds, like the sound of my heart beating. These small sounds that are amplified into my head. But the sound does not bother me. The sounds are consistent with my breathing. I feel belonging and safe. I pay attention to these sounds and listen to them. It is like I am enjoying a symphony on a quiet night. It gives me a sense of satisfaction, both physically and mentally. I gradually feel my body merge with the sound of the rain, as if not only my ears, but my whole body can hear the sound of the rain. And the sound of rain is just the sound of rain. I just hear it and it does not carry any emotion.

When I open my eyes from meditation, these sounds quickly disappear in my mind. But the feeling it gives me is still there. It is wonderful that I can hear all kinds of voices. In these sounds, I am healed. The fatigue before meditation is gone. It is rhythmic and makes me feel enjoyment and happiness. And I find that my mood becomes cheerful. The sound of rain has become less monotonous and irritable to me, and the sound of it falling on the ground is rhythmic, like a string of beautiful music.