I feel like I’m too ranty lately.

I suppose that says something specific about me, since I’m mostly writing stream-of-consciousness style, just making the clackity noise. And what seems to come out is snark and rants.

Something interesting that I discovered in my 2.5 years of therapy and in all the biking is that talking about the things that upset me … didn’t help. If I have a crappy commute, if some jerk at a light honks at me for NOT running a red light (straight into traffic! What an intellectual giant he is, that rude guy honking at me!) and I tell the story later, I get mad all over again.

And over and over.

I have actually told the story of the guy honking at me to go through a red light several times now, and though I don’t get *as* angry in this retelling as I did in the first retelling, the truth is that I do feel anger.

And it doesn’t help. Re-feeling the anger doesn’t help me. It just makes me mad!

What helps is to let it go. (Hey, there’s some buddhism for you – non-attachment!)

And the biking does that. This is why I feel that biking is a sort of moving meditation. I can be caught up in my thoughts – anger at The Honking Man, or mulling over work things, or some day dream about something, or what to eat for dinner – and I’m going to repeatedly be pulled out of those thoughts. It’s not exactly the same as meditation, in the sense that I am not consciously letting go of those thoughts, but I feel that what is accomplished is similar.

Most importantly for me, for my movement out of depression, and for my stability in the time since, is the letting go of the thoughts. Those interrupts. The way I simply have to BE in the moment, often.

This is why the biking makes it easier for me to sit and meditate now, as opposed to 3 years ago when I tried before. I’m less antsy, first of all. I’m also used to letting the thoughts flow and go.

It’s different, I think it will be important and helpful to create a sitting meditation practice, but the biking has giving me a foundation to build from.

I sat last night. Just for a few minutes. I didn’t use chimes or time myself or make note of the time I started and stopped, or anything like that. I didn’t want to think about the time. I knew that if I was measuring time in any way, I was going to be antsy about the time.

Are we there yet?

So I just sat. I let the thoughts flow and go. I felt comfortable. (I was sitting in a chair, don’t tell anyone!) I felt good.

And then Tristan meowed. I was pulled out of the flow-and-go mental state, and decided quickly not to try to jump back into it. Tristan was my chime, I figured. My small success was exactly right.