There are few things more powerful than daily, sacred practice. In a mere five minutes per day, we can shift lifetimes of limiting patterns, beliefs, and conditioning. The accumulation of small moments cannot and should not be overlooked. We often think our changes must be monumental if they are to mean anything. If they aren’t earth shattering, they must not be effective.

I believe in small moments of grace, in routine ritual that plugs us in. When we condition our inner and outer lives to expect connection, we can rest. We can work, be of service, tend our relationships, because we know our soul will be fed. The time will come when our butt will hit the meditation cushion, or we’ll be allowed to listen to the whisper of the trees, or we will read that poem aloud to no one and everyone.

Carving out time for daily practices that connect us, enliven us, and fill us with great love allows us to bloom where we’ve been planted. It seats us deeply into where we are here and now and gives us sun and breath to grow.

I just finished a 90 day meditation. This is something I’ve done many, many times. I’ve chosen a Kundalini Yoga meditation based on something I’m working through or on. I practice that same meditation for 90 days in a row. If I miss a day, I start again at day one the next day. This can be a profoundly transformational experience. The wrong meditation or practice, however, can feel awful. It can become rote and meaningless. So choosing the right practice or having the guidance of a teacher can be helpful here. If the practice is chosen mindfully, the experience can be profound.

The last few weeks have been rough for me, to say the least. Stressful situations with dear family members have been weighing heavily on me. And on top of this, I’ve had some intense tooth pain. I was nearing the end of what was supposed to be day 88 of my 90 day meditation and I thought I had hit my limit. It was the evening. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I was in so much pain that tears would ebb uncontrollably. The thought of sitting down to meditate felt a sick joke. After this long, stressful, agonizing day, I was now expected to compose myself enough to practice this meditation? Yeah right.

Something happens when you commit to doing a practice every single day. No matter what. A current picks up. This particular meditation is only 11 minutes long. So at first, it feels like nothing. It feels like maybe it’s not doing anything. But I’m a tenacious, steady, and somewhat hard-headed person, so I keep with it. After a few weeks I settle into it. I don’t necessarily look forward to the meditating. But I know it’s there. It’s the chair in the room that I could find in the dark. I could throw my socks onto it without looking. It’s been anchored in.

This kind of practice is powerful not because you have mystical, transcendent experiences. It’s powerful because it becomes a fixture. Your psyche begins to depend on it. Some part of you that was asleep before begins to wake. With the support and consistency of daily practice, we are allowed to lean on this for strength, for listening, for connection. It’s not pleasurable or non-pleasurable. It’s simply there. This kind of internal dependability is essential for happiness. When our inner selves sense that the terrain out here is supportive, it begins to come out into the light. Our brightness feels sunlight against it’s skin. We bloom. Without that sense of solid ground, we cannot bloom. This daily practice is the solid ground.

So when this awful, terrible, no good day came along (also known as day 88), this solid ground had deeply settled in me. I could feel the hours of practice behind me, pushing me forward. All I wanted to do was cry. I wanted to curl into a ball and run away. Truthfully, part of me wanted to feel alone, scared, and in desperate pain. But I could feel all my practice behind me. I could feel it rise up. As I mentioned, something happens when you practice for long periods of time. The energy begins to carry you. All your work is magnified. It’s as if the heavens want to reach to meet you half way. As I considered curling into a ball of agony and depression, I heard a thundering voice ring through, “let your practice care for you now.” I could rest. I could set myself down into this current of energy I had created through my own practice. I could let myself be carried by my good days, my strong days, my most connected days.

I did my meditation on the 88th day. It sucked. This particular meditation requires I chant out loud. My jaw hurt so bad that even mouthing a “hello” was bringing me to tears. I did not chant aloud that day. I let the Universe chant for me. But I did it. I gathered what I could that day. And I did my practice. I showed up.

This is one of the many reasons I practice. For days like Day 88. I practice so that I can rely on my practice. So that when it’s dark, and I can’t see, I’ll know where to reach for that chair. I’ll know that the Universe will belt out the songs that I just barely have the strength to hum.

If you’re interested in starting a personal practice, I can help. Be in touch if it feels like a fit.