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| Face From a Cosmetic Spoon. Credit: Cleveland Museum of Art |
I'm good for a five-minute meditation. Five minutes is achievable for me; any longer and I'm going to put it in the category of a chore, thus less likely to fold into a daily routine.
This month: a meditation of touch.
I lightly move my fingers over the terrain of my face, staying in the physical moment, feeling the sensation of skin on skin, how my face receives the touch of my fingers, and how my fingers feel the touch of my face.
I note how the texture of my lips differs from the texture of the skin on my chin. I feel how my eyebrow hairs lay. I linger over the ridged skeleton of my forehead beneath the skin. I notice the warmth or coolness of my fingers on my face. Along my jawline, are there stubbly bits or is all smooth?
During this meditation, I know that tender memories will arise of my mother caressing my skin when I was a child and of me, in turn, caressing my daughter's face. I'll feel these memories, but I'll allow them to float by as I return to the meditation of my touch in the present, letting go of all else.
