by Maray Sutti Picq
There is a moment, in meditation,
when something appears.
A thought.
A memory.
A sensation in the body.
And almost without noticing,
we follow it.
We build a story.
We try to change it,
or make it disappear.
But there is another way.
A softer way.
Instead of holding on,
instead of pushing away,
we begin to recognize.
We see it.
We feel it.
We hear it.
And gently,
we give it a name.
Thinking.
Planning.
Remembering.
Fear.
Sadness.
Not to analyze.
Not to fix.
Just to acknowledge:
this is here.
In the teachings of Jack Kornfield,
this simple act becomes a doorway.
Because when we name what arises,
we are no longer lost in it.
We are with it.
We begin to relate
instead of react.
To honor
instead of resist.
And something subtle happens.
The thought loosens.
The emotion softens.
The body breathes again.
Not because we forced it to change,
but because it was finally seen.
There is a quiet dignity
in this practice.
To let each experience come,
be recognized,
be named…
and be allowed to pass.
Like waves
that no longer need to hold us.
Only to be met,
for a moment,
in awareness.